Anchors
by HelloI'mEllie
Summary: We use these anchors to keep us on the ground, chained by our feet, and looking for ways to make things work. Sometimes they do, and sometimes not. Eli is definitely no hero, and Clare isn't much of a saint - but together they might just find their anchors within each other, even if Clare's passion is acting and Eli's is alcohol and one night-stands. Love never comes easy. EClare.
1. Alibis

I introduce my new story! I'm doing this new thing where I write five chapters to begin with, then upload a chapter, and for every chapter I write, I can upload another. So I have five chapters to upload periodically if I get struck with writer's block. Enjoy! I've put a lot of hard work in this thus far.

PS: This is for you, Shamara. One of my best friends and the main supporter of this story. She's heard me geek-out on how awesome my ideas were, she's been there through the writing process but never read a single word. I dedicate every single chapter to you because you were always there to encourage me to write more and never give up.

My update day is** MONDAY, **or whatever other day I feel like updating. So in essence, it will be random but I want to assign an official day to make myself more organized.

Disclaimer:

I don't own Degrassi, or _Alibis_ by Marianas Trench

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_This is not the man I hoped to be, and I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. I don't know how the words go, I just started not to say no. Another day is gone, and all my faces are alibis._

* * *

**Eli**

I woke up feeling uncomfortable and sore. I squinted my eyes and immediately, my vision blurred. I tried to sit up but it seems my body was too stuff to move an inch. I was shirtless and only covered by a blanket over my waist.

Looking around, I saw empty beer bottles, and the smell of pot lingered in the air. I finally got the strength to sit up and my head pounded like I have been hit but the hangover truck full-force. Glancing to my left, I noticed I wasn't alone. There was a girl with straight black hair sleeping next to me. She was naked as well. It seems I got laid last night but I was too drunk for my mind to remember.

No matter how much I drink. No matter how much I smoke. No matter how much I rebel my own personal judgment; I feel no different. My goal is to feel more alive, and right now, all I'm feeling is a pounding migraine and an upset stomach. I'm not sure if the upset stomach is from alcohol consumption or that I'm sick of myself.

Being Eli Goldsworthy never had its satisfactions. Not since Julia died; my life came to a standstill at that moment, and I felt my heart break; I felt as dead as she did, lying bare on the concrete. I lost myself. My life has definitely never been the easiest; and I'm _definitely_ no hero.

I slowly removed the covers from myself and went through the all-too familiar process of replacing all my clothes on my body without making noise. I had become so skilled at this that no one would know I left. I've gotten good at simply disappearing. I guess you could say I was sort of a schwa; I was so unnoticed that I could just skate through life without ever being accounted on for anything. But it was also quite depressing, because there were times where maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be noticed. But I just wasn't.

Walking outside, the cool August air hit my face. It was getting cold early in Toronto this year. The sudden change in temperature made my head pound more, but I ignored it. I was too used to walking alone. Even my own parents never cared enough about me; all I feel is false sincerity from everyone around me. It's quite sad when you can tell the difference between a person who cares and a person who just doesn't want to hear you complain about your life, but expect you to be at their beck and call. That's why I never bothered. All I have is me. The only thing in the world I rely on is me.

I used the alcohol as an anchor to keep me afloat. It gave me something to feel. Until it wore off, and I felt that empty hole inside me again, and I was just numb. I just floated along, to keep from going under. There were times where I wanted to indulge in other people; just for someone to give a shit. But I guess that people are just too damn busy with their own lives; concerning materialistic items and selfish desires. But even I sound a little selfish, don't I? I want human companionship so I don't feel as lonely. I want someone to believe in me. Even my own parents depreciate me into nothing. It's cool – I'm just your son that you assisted in creating and helped raise. It's not that I'm important or anything.

I can't be a hypocrite; I don't care about other people either. But that's because no one cares about me, so I don't try to care about others. I don't put forth the effort into building a friendship, just to watch it fall apart. I used the cigarettes and one night stands as something to live for. But the truth is, I was only living _then_. I wasn't living _now_, and honestly, I wasn't sure how to live now.

Every one of my faces were alibis, surrounded by a thousand lies that could never be seen by looking into my eyes; I was _that_ good at hiding emotions. I guess it's just something that comes with being invisible. Sometimes I wondered if there was anyone out there who would care about what I thought; what my opinions were; or just be there when I had something to say. What is that… a friend? I have one, and his name is Adam. But sometimes I wish it wasn't just Adam who understood.

**End of Chapter One**


	2. Life Starts Now

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Degrassi, or _Life Starts Now_ by Three Days Grace

* * *

And now it's your chance, to move on, change the way you've lived for so long, find the strength you've had inside all along, cause life starts now.

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**Clare**

Walking into a fresh new place, where no one had a clue of your name; it was kind of refreshing. Knowing I could leave everything behind and never have to deal with the same people as I did in Ottawa. A new start, a new first impression. A new chance to tell someone my story and exclude the parts that no one would ever know. It was only for me to know.

The theatre was simple; just an auditorium with a medium sized stage that was risen about 4 feet, that was incredibly normal and bland, but I'm sure that when a production is staged, the whole place comes alive. No one was here yet except me, and I was sure that in no time it would be full of people ready for auditions.

"Can I help you?" I heard a voice behind me. It was a girl about a year older than me, with blue eyes and light brown hair. She was beautiful – she had curly hair and nice looking clothes; that to me looked a little expensive. She held a clipboard in one hand and a coffee in the other with freshly manicured hands.

"Yes, I'm here for auditions?" I said nervously.

"You're in the right place! I'm Fiona," she extended a hand, which I took graciously.

"Thank you, I'm Clare," I nodded, "What play are we auditioning for?" I asked curiously.

"_The Fault in Our Stars _by John Green," Fiona smiled proudly. She seemed to be one of those people who worked hard for what they had, even if it was right in front of them, and I liked that. I liked that she was ambitious, although fortunate.

"I think that is my favorite not-part-of-a-series book ever. I think I cried throughout seventy-five percent of it. Augustus was just too damn perfect," I gushed.

"Shhhhh, don't ruin anything, silly! I'm just doing casting for the play right now, and I decided to read the book too, but I'm only on chapter six. The _real_ director will not be here until the first day of rehearsal. He likes to do all the big shot work and leave everything to the cronies, i.e., me," Fiona elaborated, "but you remind me a lot of Hazel already. You're refined, polite, and beautiful in the way that Hazel didn't know she was; you're radiant." I blushed, "Why, thank you."

"What is it you have to offer Degrassi plays that would make us pick you to play Hazel and any other part of main cast now?" Fiona switched right to business mode and moved her pen to her clipboard, while finding a seat to sit on, and looking at me expectantly. I took a deep breath, and concentrated my words perfectly.

"I'm punctual. I have a ride readily available no matter the cost. I persevere. I don't stop until something is perfect. And acting is what I love; what I'm passionate about. I love being in a theater and touching people's hearts," I said carefully, looking at Fiona for any sign of doubt, and to my surprise, she smiled a little while writing something down.

"Please give me your best audition of Hazel. It can be anything you wish, but prove to me that you're Hazel, _go," _she chopped her hands together like the black and white movie markers they clap together to start a scene. I composed myself. I jumped up on the stage, and performed something I had for so long sat in my bedroom memorizing just to remember in the darkest of times:

"There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us," I glided my arms in towards my stomach and outward to the audience, "there will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you," I made eye contact with Fiona to make sure she got the emotion. I used few hand motions, and gazed up to the back of the room, as if focusing on the entire audience and not just one person, "everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught." I shrugged, directing my attention to my shoes before looking up confidently, "maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that's what everyone else does."

Fiona clapped and I smiled as I stepped off the risen stage and approached her seat, "Damn, girl, you're certainly something." Fiona said surprised. "Was it that good?" I said nervously, shrugging my shoulders. "Yes, _God_, yes, it was perfect. I could feel the emotion coming from you. It was like you're a meteor and the sonic boom effect was every bit of emotion you threw my way. You made it personal and general, relatable and made me really stop and reevaluate my life," she said, "I think you're it. Like _really_ it. You can be our perfect Hazel. I can't just give you the role here – I have to decide my part and then the boss man has the final word. But I think you have the best chance overall to get the role."

I smiled, and hugged Fiona as she took it by surprise, but accepted it nonetheless, "Thank you, so much. This is only my first day here. So I wanted to come in with a boom, I guess, and start over from my old life, you know?" I rambled.

"I do know. Why do you think I came here? I'm originally from New York. The prep school kids can really get to you after a time. At first, I resented the thought of public school, but now after getting involved in so much, I like it. Everybody isn't rich and snobby. Nobody is extremely poor. We're all normal, floating in a sea of normalcy, living our normal lives, drinking our normal coffee before the start of a very normal day, and you know what? I like that. I like that I can do what I please before society has a chance to shut it down. I can go about my life, and nobody really cares because we're all normal, and there isn't anything different about being normal." Fiona said.

"I think I just quoted you in my head so I can write it down somewhere to inspire me." I responded, laughing a little.

Fiona chuckled, "And that, my dear Clare, is something worth doing. All normal people need inspiration to keep going. I just happen to be yours today," she patted my curls lightly, a sisterly gesture, in my opinion, and although it was unexpected, I smiled lightly as I watched her walk out of the theater.

**End of Chapter Two **


	3. Like Noughts and Crosses

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Always Attract_ by You Me At Six

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_We're like noughts and crosses in that, opposites always attract_.

* * *

**Eli**

School is pointless. Half the things you will never use in real life and the other is a complete bore. The teachers always call on their pets, the preps play with their nails, and the jocks talk about hockey. It wasn't different from any other high school, but as far as I was concerned, this place was a fool's circus.

"Just another day in hell," I said to myself, watching my math teacher scribble incomprehensible calculus on the board, thankful that it was Friday and this would be the last I would see of math for at least two days. I pretended to do the problem, and as they called on someone for the answer, I continued to pretend write so they believed I was slow. It was a basic system that worked on all teachers so that they called on the fastest person in the class and forgot the others.

At my therapist's request, I had joined the drama club last year. She said I needed to "_participate"_. I realize that sounds like _Perks of Being a Wallflower_, as that was her other request, that I read it. I enjoyed the book much; I could relate to Charlie. I empathize that what he went through was horrible, and I get how he felt infinite because he finally had a purpose in life. I wish that I could feel infinite. But I haven't found my purpose yet.

The first few plays that we did were okay. I enjoyed working backstage with some other nobodies. It was nice knowing that there were other people who went unnoticed as I did. It gave me the opportunity to be like Charlie – to be a wallflower.

Adam also worked with me. He was the sound tech, and that's what he went by. Well actually, they knew him as "_the sound guy"_, which I guess was better than "_emo boy_" as I am referred to.

Walking into the theater, the set has already started to be built. One part was what looked like a hospital room, another was a basement, I think, and the last looked like a lavish living room. Of course, only the walls and paint were up, but I could hear people talking about what would go where and other mathy things that I a) didn't understand or b) didn't care to.

I saw the casting director and set designer – Fiona, and the head honcho lumberjack Jake looking at a giant script. Fiona was using lots of hand motions, and Jake was nodding. Honestly, Fiona was more of a director than Jake was – she had the money and the contacts to get what they needed, and Jake just took it all and put it under his byline. But, being the principal's favorite, Jake stayed in his position being all high and mighty while the rest of us did everything for him.

More people piled in, and my eye caught on a particular curly auburn haired girl, whom I have never seen before, walk into the auditorium with a messenger's bag over her shoulder, wearing a blue sundress under some leggings that stopped at her knees, and I swear, my breath caught in my throat. I forced myself to look away, but looking back, I watched her sit by herself in the corner, pull out a book and start reading. I swallowed the lump in my throat as my heart suddenly started beating fast and my hands turned sweaty.

What was this feeling? I've never felt this before. It was something so foreign, yet natural. So I did the next best natural thing:

I walked away.

"Adam," I said, "video games at my house after?" I requested.

"Man, I can't. I've gotta help Mom prepare for some relatives coming into town. Sorry, bro," he frowned. I sighed, and did our signature hand shake, and went off to wait until I was needed. But even still, the image of the beautiful girl I just saw was stuck in my mind.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" I heard Jake say, as I peeked out from backstage and around the curtains, "I would like to inquire as to who got what role. I have to say, I like the selection this year. For the main female role of Hazel – I give you, Imogen Moreno." Glancing at the curly haired beauty, I watched her frown in disappointment. She must have auditioned to be Hazel. Imogen jumped up, giggling and twirling around, and sat back down, floating in her own little world. I shook my head in distaste.

"The role of Augustus – Drew Torres," I saw the jock be congratulated by all of his football friends. I looked at Adam, who was standing on the other side of the stage behind the curtain, and he gave me a thumbs up. I chucked to myself.

"The other roles are posted in the drama room, because I forgot the paper and that's the only names I could think of off the top of my head," Jake admitted. I pursed my lips. Of course he forgot it. He just wanted to announce the leads in front of everyone to shatter half of their hopes.

"The rest of you – I expect you here on Monday for a read through of the script. No excuses. Goodbye," Jake concluded. I sighed, and gathered my stuff. Collecting my keys from my pocket, I shot a solemn look at Adam, who smirked sideways sadly, and I walked out of the back door of the auditorium to escape the crowd. As I approached the student parking lot, I turned towards the front doors of the school, seeing the auburn haired girl come down the steps. She looked my direction, and caught my eye for a second before looking away. My hands got that sweaty feeling again. My heart rate picked up. She looked away, adjusted her messenger bag, as a car pulled up and she opened the door and got in. My heart almost broke at her absence, but I composed myself and walked to Morty.  
Putting the keys in the ignition, I sat in the hearse's frigid air conditioning for a few minutes thinking about her. What was her name? What was she like? Do I even stand a chance?

My heart said yes, and my head was screaming, a migraine sure to come on by the end of the day. Julia was gone, and although I missed her, I needed to move on with my life, and maybe this was it. Maybe this girl was the key to it all. Maybe I would finally be happy.

Maybe, just maybe.

**End of Chapter 3**


	4. Black and White World

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Color_ by the Maine

Erm, last paragraph is a trigger warning. I don't write those often, so I will just give you a little heads up now.

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_We're just trying to find some color in this black and white world.  
_

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**Clare**

_"Clare Edwards – Understudy for Hazel"_

My heart sank, reading these words. I worked so hard. Fiona even assured me – I was sure to get the part. I was a shoe in. It was meant to be. It was supposed to happen. But even she said it – she didn't have the ability to give me the part. The director - I learned his name was Jake - held the final decision. But still, I was confident that for once something would go my way. But evidently not. I felt almost lied to; and the stabbing in my chest was only a fraction of what I actually felt. I felt let down. But I didn't let tears fill my eyes – I remained collected, but yet, I was angry on the inside.

With a spur of courage, I approached Jake. At first, I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say, and the words just didn't come out. I didn't thoroughly think this through very well. His hazel – how ironic because I wanted to be the character of Hazel – stared at me oddly. Finally I said, "Hey, um, Jake. My name is Clare Edwards. I'm the understudy for Hazel." My heart retched at the sound of me saying that word, but I bit my tongue and reached out my hand and he cautiously took it, "Oh, that's who you are. I didn't see you audition, so I didn't recognize your face. Please excuse my ignorance," he said kindly, almost mockingly, those hazel eyes twinkling and he gave me a once over. My heart rate picked up, but I shook it off. He was trying to flirt with me to make me stop bothering him, or the other way around. I had a feeling he used his looks to get ahead in life, or _in_ girls' pants.

"I was wondering…why wasn't I picked to be Hazel? Fiona said that I would have played the part well, and I'm curious as to why I didn't get it. Please excuse my curiosity," I mocked his previous tone, batting my eyelashes.

"Because Imogen is the best. She has been the female lead in every play since I've been director. She is the best we have," Jake shrugged, blushing before quickly covering up: "She's punctual and accurate on her lines," he coughed.

I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head a little, "So because she is _the best_, she automatically gets the part? What is so bad with switching it up?" I challenged.

"Change is bad for business, little Clare," I twitched at the term _little_, as he called me – as if I was a little toddler compared to his precious Imogen. I shifted in agitation. I was not one to be underestimated.

"So do I just come to every rehearsal and pretend that I have the part when I don't?" I asked angrily, raising my eyebrows. Maybe fighting him back was just the way to get what I wanted. Jake chuckled at me as if I made a minor joke. His dimples showed at the corners of his mouth and little pieces of his hair flicked into his forehead, and he didn't brush them away.

"Oh, little Clare, you have so much to learn. You will do precisely that – come to every rehearsal. Know your lines. If Imogen doesn't show for a rehearsal, you take her place. And if for some extremely rare chance that she can't make the show – you resume her position. But I doubt you'll be doing much. She is quite reliable," Jake said with an edge, doubting me. He _doubted _me. He didn't even _know_ me and yet I was something to doubt. I pursed my lips, and nodded an acknowledgement as I walked away, annoyed.

From out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my demise staring me right in the face: Imogen with a downright murderous look on her face. She radiated hate, and it almost made me take a step back. I stared blankly back, narrowing my eyes in confusion at her. But still she stared. Eventually, I broke hold, and I walked out of the auditorium and to my awaiting mother's car, but as I left, I could still feel the burning eyes of Imogen on the back of my head.

* * *

The next morning, I walked up to my locker, noticing colored marks written all over the metallic black surface. Written in what seemed to be lipstick, colored bright purple, was "_UNDERSTUDY"_ written in bolded capital letters. My heart dropped, and immediately tears filled my eyes. I ran to the bathroom, crying like I haven't in a long time, and slamming the door behind me, hoping that nobody was there to see my crying eyes.

I searched my pocket for my glasses case. Wrapped in a little silk cleaning cloth – I found my salvation. I touched the razors sharp edges with a little force – drawing blood at my fingertips. Using toilet paper to keep my blood from draining the life of me as it flowed out of my veins – I seethed out my emotional turmoil, placing rough, sharp kisses all over my forearm using the razor blade. The pain numbed me, and brought me to this feeling of bliss, but maybe it was just the numbing pain. I wrapped my arm in a bandage that I kept handy, and lowered my sweater sleeve onto my arm – which was now covered in fresh scars that no one would ever see.

Collecting myself in a few practiced breathing techniques, I left the bathroom and heard manic giggling from the other side of the hallway. Wearing bright purple lipstick and a smirk on her stained lips, was the one and only Imogen Moreno.

**End of Chapter Four **


	5. Bite My Tongue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Bite My Tongue_ by You Me At Six ft. Oli Sykes

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I can't recall the last time, someone asked me how I was. Last I checked I was a fucking wreck. I called for help, and no one showed up, I sit in the dirt.

* * *

**Clare**

That Monday morning came briskly, and I was excited yet not, because I wasn't sure how the day would go. On one hand, I could be able to prove myself to Jake and the rest of the cast, or I'll be ignored until needed. My pessimistic side is going for the latter. That Monday came and went, just as Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday did all the same.

But even so, there was something about being in the theatre that made real life just disappear. You could just take the personality of another and escape your own reality for awhile. Maybe it was just the feeling of being able to not think like yourself for a bit – or that people saw you portrayed as another and not yourself. Taking in the personality of a character was almost like changing old habits to fit the situation, and it made you second guess yourself. You wanted to become that character; become like that character; have their way of thinking; just be them. You could forget yourself and just be someone else. It was what I strived to be: something I wasn't.

The grace, the talent, the feeling that emitted from this place was so maudlin. I just wanted to stay in this calm energetic place and not have to go back to my old life. Well, my old life was back in Ottawa. This is my new life, and I was making it my goal to make it into something worth wile.

But I wasn't the one on stage; no, that was Imogen, and me? I was just her understudy. The understudy that no one knew the name to; the girl who was invisible until needed, which was almost never because Imogen was obsessed with getting her parts right every time, and she succeeded at so. I was forced to sit behind the curtain and watch her fill _my _role. I was only back here because I was the new girl and they didn't know what I was capable of. Although I sound thoroughly confident, I was not so. I was shy about it all; I felt like I didn't do as well as others made it out to be. But I guess sometimes you just have to accept what people say instead of constantly putting yourself down. And people say I'm good. So I'm going to act like I am without being greedy.

Watching Imogen got annoying very quickly. She was like that stubborn bubble that floated around but refused to pop. In my opinion, she simply had too much energy on stage. But apparently it was what the directors wanted – because Jake couldn't keep his eyes off of her the whole time she was acting, smirking from time to time. Even Fiona seemed to be thoroughly impressed, although she just glanced from under her eyelashes and continued to write on her clipboard like she usually does, and when Imogen is around, she makes some excuse to leave the area. I don't think Fiona knows that I notice this. Maybe she just doesn't like Imogen's annoyingly over-positive aura either.

I made friends quickly with the people backstage. The make-up girl (whose name was Mariah) was very nice, and the sound technician Adam was very funny, even if most of his humor was comic book related. I talked to Fiona too, and sometimes dropped subtle hints asking why I didn't get the part, but Fiona would just mumble, "it's what Jake wants", or something along those lines.

One day, Jake called me out to center stage. I was puzzled, but went out anyway. I laced my fingers together in front of my body and awaited his Majesty's orders.

"Clare," he said, "I know you're the understudy, but I need to see how you're coming along with your lines. Pick up from where Hazel talks about the infinities, if you would please." Jake asked.

I didn't say a word to question, before slipping into my acting mode: "There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1," I made a zero with my right hand and a one with my right, "There's .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful."

Fiona clapped, and Jake had a satisfied smirk on his face. Obviously, he wasn't expecting that.

And obviously I wasn't expecting what happened next.

Suddenly, I'm drenched in water, and I open my mouth to gasp in shock. Then objects come flying at me and breaking – I identify them as eggs – and the yolk becomes tangled in my hair. I shield my face, and before I could run, I open my arms to Imogen running at me with mysterious cans before pressing the button, releasing purple Silly String onto me. Finally I ran, embarrassed, wet, and covered in egg yolk and silly string.

Rage boils inside me, and the last thing I expected myself to do, was start to cry. I fled through the back door of the auditorium to the back parking lot – the one that nobody but the drama department uses – and crumbled into a egg-covered mess as tears streaked down my cheeks. I wiped them away hastily in anger. Imogen won't get away with this. She _won't. _ I refuse. But I can't do anything about it now if I'm sitting against a brick wall in the dirt, prying purple string from my hair as best I could, and getting the raw chicken abortions away from my face.

I wanted to destroy Imogen. _Destroy_ her. But I had to bite my tongue. I had to be better than she is. I won't stoop that low.

And to my next surprise, a body suddenly appeared next to me. I was sure to have looked like a wet purple and yellow mess to whoever dared to come near me while I was having a breakdown. I glanced, and I was met with piercing green eyes holding sympathy, and I just continued to sniffle.

"I think you're better than her," the mystery boy with the green eyes said.

"Apparently Jake doesn't think so," I mumbled, wiping a stray tear from my cheeks.

"Jake doesn't know anything about theatre. He's just Simpson's pet and looks like a lumberjack," he growled with distaste at the mention of Jake's name. I chuckled a little, and took in this boy physically. To be honest, he was breathtakingly striking. His eyes were a jade green, his lips full, with raven black hair swooped across his forehead. I wished I didn't look so bad right now or else I would have tried to flirt with him, but it probably would have come out like "_uh hi, I'm a potato, and you're a hot potato". _

"Then why didn't he cast me as Hazel if I am better?" I questioned.

"Because he's stupid," the boy shrugged.

"It has to be more than that," I pressed.

He smirked, something I found instantly attractive, "Maybe there is, and the rest of us just don't know it." The boy got up, and I almost whined at his absence. He walked towards a car – erm, a_ hearse_? and reached in, grabbing a band t-shirt inscripted with _A Day to Remember_ on the front, and some random red gym shorts. He handed them to me, looking down sheepishly. I got up slowly, extended my hand and took them from him, our hands brushing in the process. I gasped quietly – the contrast of his hands on mine was electric. I almost jumped at the contact. I looked up to search his eyes, but was met with the same look as I'm sure I had – while covered in egg yolk, water and purple silly string.

"I'm Eli," he said quickly.

"Clare." I responded.

And he walked away to his car, without so much another word. I was left holding clean clothes and a puzzled expression. How frustrating, and how rude, to walk away in an otherwise meaningless conversation, but for me, left me confused, and wanting more of his touch?

And never in my life had I ever been more intrigued.

**End of Chapter Five **


	6. My Stomach's Tied in Knots

**Two updates in two days? Wow, radical, gnarly dude! I am merely being kind, dear children. Please, do tell your other Degrassi-obsessed fans about my story. I do enjoy hearing from you.**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Degrassi, or _Stomach Tied in Knots_ by Sleeping with Sirens, which is one of my favorite songs by them…oh don't even get me started. I do wish I knew Kellin Quinn though. He seems like a total bad ass and not to mention he's quite sexy. *swoon* But honestly I would rather be like his little sister because he can be my best friend and I can travel with the band. I'd cook them dinner and make vlogs about the daily life of touring. But that is nothing but a dream.

* * *

_Oh, my stomach's tied in knots, I'm afraid of what I'll find if you want to talk tonight. Oooooo, oooooooo, see the problem isn't you, it's me I know. I can tell, I've seen it time after time, and I'll push you away. I get so afraid, oh, no._

* * *

**Eli**

What was I thinking? _What was I thinking?_ Following that girl – I learned her name was Clare - out of the auditorium after she gets pelted with raw eggs and silly string, crying her eyes out, and probably about to rip Imogen's throat out, was by far the most _irrational_ decision I have ever made.

But God, I knew it was the right one.

There was just something, _something,_ there. I had to go find it, before it slipped away. My curiosity was just too strong. I had to know her name. I had to taste it on my lips, test it on my tongue. But yet, my nature was stopping me. Like a brick wall I just couldn't see. I wanted to know her, I _wanted to know her,_ but my mind kept telling me to back off and mind my own business. I realize this: I am afraid. But I am brave. I am brave enough to go against my own fears just to know her name. And I did. Her name is Clare. She has beautiful blue eyes and a smile that reflects the sun. She's radiant, _beautiful,_ and the best part of it is: I don't think she knows it.

But giving her my shirt and gym shorts – that was something I did without thinking. I had to do something for her. I couldn't let her sit there covered in egg, soaking wet. So I did the next best thing. I just hope it was enough to at least give me a shot.

I didn't want Clare just for sex, or just as a play thing. For the second time in my life, I wanted her to be mine. Even though I knew nothing about her; I just knew. But I was terrified that my past would catch up to me. I was still pained with nightmares about Julia lying dead on the concrete. Not to sound selfish, but sometimes I wish I didn't run after her and witness the whole thing. If I just gave up and stayed home, I would have just gotten the news the next day with no images to wound me every night; taunting me with whispers of accusation, blood everywhere, and I was the one holding the knife. Not literally, but technically, I held the knife that severed Julia's life, and every second following, I lived in the constant reminder of what _I_ caused. I didn't want that to happen again.

Never.

The next week came quickly, my knee bouncing with anticipation because I knew I would have play rehearsal that day – which meant I would see Clare. Just the thought of seeing her made my stomach turn inside out with the nervousness. I wasn't sure why I was acting this way, it made me want to slap myself in the face and snap out of it.

"Hey man, you okay? You're really jumpy today," Adam inquired around lunchtime. He was stuffing his face with cheese fries, although this was a normal occurrence Adam eats as though he hasn't in a million years. He had liquid cheesy goodness all over his fingers and in the corner of his mouth, and made no attempt to wipe it away or even acknowledge that it was there.

I didn't even hear him at first, mumbling a "Yeah, I'm fine," before swallowing what was left of my tasteless school lunch and rummaging through my bag to find my apple. I put the apple halfway in my mouth, grabbed my stuff and said a quick goodbye to Adam through the apple protruding my mouth. I probably looked ridiculous and it may have sounded like a toddler trying to speak its first words, but I ignored the quizzical stare he was directing at the back of my head. But I just left without another word.

I went to my locker, took out a comic book, and plopped down on the linoleum floor in front of my English classroom – the class that I now shared with Clare, but I don't think she noticed me because she sits in the front whereas I sit in the back corner. She looks really cute when she bites the end of her pen while she's thinking…_okay Eli, snap out of it._ I shook my head and tried to immerse myself in the world of comics, but to no avail. My mind was still reeling a million miles a second, wondering to that auditorium, where I would see Clare again, hopefully not covered in eggs and crying, and no desks or people in my way.

I was driving myself crazy, I knew it.

But if Clare was the only person in the world in my seventeen years of life who could make me feel this way, I just had to get close to her and explore this feeling. This wasn't just a one-night stand kind of hope, it was a lasting hope; something I wanted to keep around, and not just for the night until my buzz wore off. I hadn't even thought about touching alcohol or drugs while being around Clare. It was like she was the antidote. She was the answer to my problems. It wasn't therapy, or religion. It was her. But I needed to make sure, and I would.

I would.

The final bell of the day rang, and I practically ran to the auditorium. I sat in a seat by myself and took out one of my many Chuck Palahniuk books. I didn't hear her walk in, but sure enough, Clare came in not long after me, and plopped beside me, that smile I adored already on her face.

"Funny, I never took you for a Chuck Palahniuk fan," she said sarcastically.

"Well, first rule about being a Chuck Palahniuk fan, is don't talk about being a Chuck Palahniuk fan," I joked back. She chuckled, her curls bouncing. I smirked; enjoying the positive reaction I got from her. I loved being the source of her laughter.

"How was your weekend?" I asked, making small conversation.

"It was..." she paused, leaning her head from side to side, finding the right word, "alright," she said plainly, shrugging whilst setting her bag down on the floor beside her seat and crossing her legs - a sign to me that she was comfortable.

"Okay, the truth now, please," I said, raising my eyebrows at her. She blushed.

She sighed, "I still have purple silly string in my hair," she admitted, bowing her head sheepishly and blushing, which I found to be adorable.

"Oh, you mean, right there," I poked one of her curls, "and there," I poked another. She laughed, and hit me in the arm. I smirked to myself and looked up at her through my bangs, hoping she didn't see me blush. I could feel that this was the start of something beautiful. She was smiling, I was smiling, and for once, something felt right. The universe has ultimately decided to give me happiness in the form of Clare.

There goes that feeling in my stomach again – butterflies.

**End of Chapter **


	7. We're Both Little People

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _BigCityDreams by NeverShoutNever! _I own an iPod touch that tends to crash a lot. I use it to read books. I'm currently on the Delirium series, because I just finished the Divergent series, (of what is out right now. Counting down the days until the last book is released in October) both of which I strongly recommend. But be warned, you will get attached to the male protagonists. It's inevitable.

Anyways, leave me a review. I like seeing reviews after I upload a new chapter. It makes me happy.

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_These big city dreams are what you're about_

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**Clare**

Even though we met sort of abruptly, Eli and I have become quite good friends. The type that sit together at lunch and walk to class with only a few inches between each other, and sometimes a hug when you must depart. I knew as soon as I met him, that there was something going on between us. I wasn't sure if it was romantic or not. But maybe one of these days I'll find out.

I was stupid not to report the hazing incident that Imogen and her cronies ensued on me. I know I should have, but I convinced myself not to, in the thought that being a snitch would make it that much worse than it already was. I decided to completely ignore it and pretend it didn't bother me. Although, I did get some mean snickers and dirty looks from Imogen sometimes in the hall – the kind of stare that you can feel burning into the back of your head like acid. But I always kept walking. I knew if I looked, it would throw more fuel on the fire.

Play rehearsals went on as usual, except now I actually had friends to be around. Eli made me laugh when I was stuck being depressed over how I didn't have the part of Hazel. It still bothered me a little that I didn't get it. I wasn't being bitter, more like disappointed.

"When I hopefully become famous one day, I'm going to emotionally ruin people like Imogen. It's becoming my second biggest dream besides getting famous," I said to him one day, popping a pretzel in my mouth. He just smirked and never said a word.

I took these opportunities on stage waiting to be noticed, and spent them backstage with Eli. We talked about a lot, but I still felt like he was hiding things from me. I never pressed my suspicions. One time, I asked him what he wanted to be after this, and he said, "I want to be a writer; a director of Degrassi's plays." I narrowed my eyes when he said this, "Why aren't you?" I asked, adverting my eyes to Jake for a second and back to him, confused. He sighed, his shoulders slouching.

"Because here, you either sink or swim, and if you're me, you hang onto whatever you can to keep from drowning. Only the populars can swim. They get what they want because they have money and power; they don't need floaties to swim. But the unnamed stage hands, like myself, or even the understudies, like you, need floaties to keep from drowning in this place. We're like minnows in a shark tank. They eat us because they can, and take whatever their precious daddies can get them. But most of the time, it's us who pay the price for something that is at their convenience," he said. It took me a moment to fully take in his words, before nodding my head and a comfortable silence emerged between us.

That night, I wrote down what he said, almost verbatim. The words echoed in my mind like a song, and I wrote them down so I'd never forget the lyrics.

I practiced my lines until they were perfect – usually pacing around my room trying to get just the right tone of voice for every word I spoke. I color coded different tones on each one of my lines. Whether it was "_sarcastically"_ in blue,or _"nostalgic" _in green, and sometimes the occasional _"bitchy"_ in red, my script became a rainbow of emotions that I just _had_ to get right. Sometimes I even read through my script while walking through the halls of Degrassi; running into people often and mumbling "excuse me's" before going on my merry way.

Oh, but I am a fool, a fool to think that my previous tortures would end so easily.

I was reading my script one Wednesday, stepping between a couple who shot back a glare at me and I stumbled a little while turning back and shouting "I'm sorry!", and when I turned back around, lo and behold, Imogen steps in front of me, and my head snapped up at the sudden body in my path, and backing up a few inches so I didn't look straight into her brown eyes of pure evil, but not enough to feel intimidated.

"As long as I am here, you will _never_ be needing this," she said, grabbing my script and tearing it into two pieces, four pieces, six pieces, until it was just mediocre squares in her fingers. I fought the urge to scream every time her manicured hands ripped away at my hard work. My jaw clenched, and so did my fists, as I fought the urge to deck her straight in the face. Landing myself in the principal's office will surely get me out of the play for sure.

Instead, I just glared at her, trying to will myself not to cry how of pure anger, and out of the corner of my eye behind her head, I saw Eli approaching me fast. He had a concerned look on his face, his eyebrows scrunched, "Leave her alone Imogen," he said sternly, pushing himself in the space between her and I. He ducked his head and glared at her like a human werewolf would as they stared at their prey, and this was about the time where his eyes turned yellow and the most obvious thing to do at that point would be to run. But this wasn't a cliche werewolf movie. Eli looked murderous, but the most surprising part was, I liked how protective he was of me, and also, he's really hot when he's angry.

"Oh, there was nothing to interrupt, Eli, because we're done here," she huffed, turning her back in an instant and strutting away. My fists remained clenched as I thought of the many shapes I could mold her face into like Playdoh.

"God, I _hate_ her." I seethed, bringing my hands to my hair and pulling; a tear fell down my cheek out of anger and I wiped it away before Eli could see it.

"Why didn't you fucking hit her? She deserved it," Eli said.

"Because I knew I would land my ass right in Simpson's office, and right _out_ of the play production! That would give Imogen exactly what she wanted - me out of her turf!" I answered. Eli's head tilted back and forth, weighing options, "Or," he said, "You can hit her where it hurts, and not in a way to get you in trouble."

"And how do you propose I do that, Aristotle?" I said sarcastically, slapping my arms against my sides.

"Let's spy on her. Find out her secrets. Expose them to the school," he raised his eyebrows. I felt a little jumping feeling in the pit of my stomach. This sounded downright maniacal, but I was curious.

"And how do we do that?" I asked again.

"Let's tail her after school. Find out where she hangs out. Keep an eye on her." Eli said.

"And she won't notice a giant black hearse following her everywhere? Or will she get the hint she is being followed by death and feel ultimately guilty for some crime she never committed and fall into a dark depression before an evitable suicide?" I guessed excitedly. Eli chuckled, and my stomach did that weird flipping thing again. When Eli looked back at me, I took a moment to look at his green eyes. They were gorgeous, and I wondered why I never noticed them before. I saw my reflection in them in one second, and for that one second, I wondered what he saw when he saw me. I shook that thought away immediately for having wishful thinking that Eli might have a romantic interest in me.

"That sounds like a soap opera, Edwards, which I feel like you watch too many of," he joked lightly.

"Hey now, I had my _One Tree Hill _phase, but that's about it." I joked back. Eli chuckled again, his hair falling into his eyes and he quickly brushed them out of his face, and for one second, I wished it was _my_ hand brushing his bangs out of his face. I shook that thought away too.

"But seriously, we're following Imogen right after school," he averted right back to our previous topic. I pursed my lips, before nodding and agreeing to meet him on the front steps directly after the final bell rang.

As he walked away, I felt this sense of loss. My side didn't feel as warm. My heart wasn't beating as fast. My stomach stopped flipping. I didn't know what this feeling was, and I couldn't shake it off.

And I swore I saw a smirk dangle on his lips as he strode away, and for a moment, I thought I wasn't having wishful thinking.

This was the thought I didn't shake off.

**End of Chapter **


	8. Social Suicide

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Let's Get Fucked Up and Die_ by Motion City Soundtrack

Anyways, review please *heart*

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_Let's get fucked up and die. I'm speaking figuratively of course, like the last time that I committed suicide, social suicide._

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**Eli**

I meant it when I offered to Clare to spy on Imogen. I wanted to ruin her just about as much as she did. But I guess I was just waiting for someone to have the balls to want to _try._ It was social suicide. But that's okay, because I wasn't one to care about that shit anyway.

I met her on the steps of the school. The bell had just rang and the air was buzzing with excitement to be leaving Degrassi for the day. The September air wasn't very cool yet, but the wind had a bite to it, that made you draw your jacket a little closer to block the cold winter that was soon to come. Winter came fast in Toronto, but maybe that's because we live in motherfucking _Canada. _Just a thought.

Clare strolled up to me, her auburn curls bouncing in the light wind mixed with the spring in her step. She wore a particularly mischievous smile on her face; her lips permanently curved in all her pink lip glossy glory. She was wearing a light purple dress today, and I had to admit that I liked it. I had to think about my mother naked in order to counter the growing tightness in my pants.

Focus, Eli, focus.

"So where to?" she asked as she approached me.

"Well, our _victim_," this earned an eyebrow raise from Clare, "parks a few spaces down from me in the parking lot. We'll sit in my car and wait for her to leave and then tail her at a respectable distance." I nodded, finishing our battle plan. Clare pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly, squinting her eyes.

"And if we don't find anything?" she asked.

"We wait it out for a few days and then try again. She's got to have some sort of schedule where she hangs out with her friends on certain days." I shrugged my shoulders.

Clare seemed satisfied and nodded, and with that, we walked silently to my car. Morty's black surface shone in the sunlight, and it was times like these where I was thankful for having such a unique car. I could spot it from a mile away and never have the problem that people usually do at some point in their life; stuck in the parking lot of a grocery store and forgot what aisle your car was parked on. Or even worse, an amusement park. But I guess that's why they invented the panic alarm.

The parking lot was loaded with free teenagers – escaping to their vehicles as if the school was on fire. But it might as well be, because it was surely worse than any hell that could ever exist.

I spotted Imogen out of the corner of my eye walking with her other slut friends. Although seriously, they all look like they came out of _Mean Girls_, except it was the goth and scene version, not to place any labels, and yes, I have seen _Mean Girls_. My mother is a teenage girl on the inside. By the way, _oh my god, Karen, you can't just ask people why they're white_. I looked over at Clare, who caught my eye and one of her eyebrows twitched, our minds transmitting hidden messages and nodding silently.

We climbed in the car and (thank you based God for tinted windows) proceeded to stare unhealthily in Imogen's direction, waiting for her to say goodbye to her army of skanks (yet another _Mean Girls_ reference) and ride away in her white sports car. How incredibly cliché – a popular white girl with two best friends and has a rich daddy and expensive everything. I swear my life is a bad ABC movie.

Clare glanced at me and had an unsure look in her eye, as if wondering if this was the right thing to do. I guess her moment of bravery and mischief has faded and now she is back to being tenacious. I reached over the long front seat and rubbed her shoulder gently. I really hope she didn't feel my hands shaking, because I was a leaf at this point. Even the thought of touching her in a non-sexual way made me nervous. She eased her tension at my touch, which slightly deflated my nervousness to just a slight buzz in my brain.

Finally, Imogen left the parking lot, which I waited to be about two cars behind her in order to tail her without causing suspicion, despite driving a hearse for based-God's sake. She stopped at The Dot, and I parked a few spaces down and watched her as she sat in a booth next to a window. She ordered what seemed to be a coffee, and just sat alone scrolling on her iPhone.

"Why is she alone?" Clare asked, "Shouldn't she be going to a party or something?"

"Generally you don't throw parties on a Wednesday, Clare," her mouth slowly formed an O as her head tilted back a little. God, how I wanted her to make that face when I made her hit her...I shook the dirty thought from my head, readjusting my jeans discretely.

We watched Imogen for twenty minutes. Nothing happened. She ordered a coffee, sat to enjoy it, paid and left. What an utter disappointment. Clare's shoulders slacked slightly in sadness, puffing out a disappointed breath and her bottom lip poked out ever-so slightly.

"Day One: target has done nothing important. Proceed mission to day two," I pretended to say into an invisible walkie-talkie. Clare started giggling madly and looking at me with those big blue eyes, and I swear my heart stopped. She was so beautiful like this – and natural. Her hair was shining in the low light of 5 o'clock in the afternoon, as did her skin because of its porcelain color, smooth and soft-looking, and it made my mouth water a little. This frustration over my new-found feelings for Clare was making it hard to just be her friend.

And I think what I realized the most in this moment, was that I wanted to be more than just her friend.

A thought came into my head, and I had to stop myself from blurting it out loud. I could ask her to homecoming, but that wasn't my thing; sure I was spontaneous, but to ask her this? I might as well sign my own death certificate. She'd know I liked her. But what if she doesn't like me back? What if she says no?

The more positive side of me said: what if she says _yes_?

"Hey, Clare?" I asked.

"Yes, Eli?" she answered, her blue eyes sparkling.

I wanted to ask her, so much. I just wanted to say _Clare, will you go to homecoming with me?_ But it was so cliché, and we were sitting in my car spying on her enemy. My heart thumped so loud I wondered if she could hear it. It was killing me. _Just ask her_, I thought. I was having this internal battle with myself where half of my brain was screaming for me to ask her, and the other half was listing everything that could go wrong if she said no. Maybe if I just took a risk, yes, a risk, and maybe it will turn out good for the both of us. I took a breath.

"Same time tomorrow?" I blew it. I totally just went against everything I've just thought about doing because I didn't want to get hurt. God, I was so stupid, just so…

"Of course," she answered, and my heart inflated. I would ask her to go to homecoming with me. Just not here – I wanted her to remember it. I smiled at her, breathing out the breath I didn't know I was holding. She smiled back, and I drove her home in silence. I glanced over at her and she had what seemed to be a disappointed expression on her face as she looked outside the window, watching the pavement roll underneath Morty's wheels. Did she think I was going to ask her out? Did she get her hopes up?

Pulling up to her house, we exchanged looks as she muttered a thank you before opening her door and going up to her front door without another word, or so much a glance back.

Not asking Clare out when I had the thought to was one of things I will regret the most, and in my heart, I made a promise to myself that one day, I would do it even if my chance was gone.

**End of Chapter **


	9. What Are You Looking For?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Degrassi, or _What Are You Looking For_? by Sick Puppies, but I own a pair of beautiful purple and gray Vans.

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_Another piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit, you throw your arms up, you're so damn sick of it. What are you hurting for? What are you searching for? Love._

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**Clare**

"Can anyone hear themselves speak?" I heard Adam yell. I laughed in the direction of his lanky figure in the dim lighting. The only real lighting in this whole place was the center of the dance floor, which was illuminated by strobe lights. But here in the back of the gymnasium by the creaky bleachers, it was only lighted by our colored glow sticks around our necks. Each of us got a specific color of our own: Adam got blue, Fiona got pink, Eli got red, and I got purple. We were the misfits of the dance. I lost Alli a little while ago, who I can only assume is in the direct center of the dance floor with Drew, grinding like every other couple in this dance.

Eli and I had become really close friends since when I met him after the whole egg yolk-purple-silly-string-and-water incident in the theatre. From day one, I knew there was something between Eli and I…but I couldn't quite understand what it was. It was something that clicked on in my brain that said "Hold onto this one, and don't let go." That thought alone scared me, because I had never met someone and instantly had a connection with them. It was like a fire lit inside me, and I was scared of the feelings I was getting. I was falling; fast at that, and I was terrified.

Whenever Eli was around, my heart started screaming. I had to admit that I was a little disappointed that he didn't ask me out that first day we spied on Imogen in his car. It's been almost two weeks and still nothing. Imogen seems to have the perfect life and it kills me that we haven't found anything to socially destroy her. But we keep looking. We keep following her and we keep watching her. I really hope she doesn't see Eli's noticeable car following her almost every day. Because then I would really be depressed.

"Now, pretty ladies and handsome gentlemen, I present to you the one slow song I will be playing this evening. Enjoy," the DJ's voice rang through the gym, a little muffled from the loud music and I had to pay attention to catch what he was saying to make sure I heard him correctly. I glanced over at Eli, who was talking with someone I didn't know; probably another junior. I was about to make my way over to him when suddenly –

"Clare! I need you!" Adam said, clinging to my arm and dragging me out onto the dance floor.

"Adam! What are you doing?!" I said confused.

"Fiona ditched me to hang with Holly J! I need to get her attention somehow!" He said.

"And making her mad at me by dancing with the guy she may like is the only way? How do you know she even likes you?" I answered.

"Just, please!" He begged.

I sighed, "Fine."

Adam put his hands on either side of my waist, and I put my hands on his shoulders. We didn't look into each other's eyes, and it grew increasingly awkward.

Half way through the song, he said, "Well, this is sufficiently awkward."

"Couldn't agree more." I said.

"No offence, but I could never date you. That would be even more awkward."

"You should be a fucking priest. Cause you're preaching to the choir here." I said sarcastically.

"Har har. Go find your Prince Charming before the song's over." Adam said.

"Thanks to you, it may be over before I find him, asshole," I said while walking away.

I ran around looking for Eli, and the song was ending and I started to panic. I finally spotted him and right as I made my way towards him, the song ended. I felt like I wanted to cry. I could have told Eli how I really felt, but I missed my chance.

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**Eli**

Not only was I stupid for not asking Clare to homecoming as my date, I was even stupider for not asking her to dance. I was jumpy with anticipation because I was hoping that the DJ would play a few slow songs so I had a couple chances at asking Clare to dance. Not one song. That was one chance, and I blew it, once again.

Adam dragged her onto the dance floor. He has been pining after Fiona lately. He thinks that he has a chance with her. But honestly, I don't think Fiona sees him as anything but a friend. She seems like the type of girl who has a rich, perfect boyfriend back home in New York City just waiting for her to come home from lame-o public school in Canada.

I didn't wait to watch Clare finish the slow dance with Adam. I faded into the corner of the gymnasium in hopes that I would become invisible. I looked away from Clare, pinching the bridge of my nose, yelling at myself for being so stupid. My mind was worse than a jostled schizophrenic's mind on a bad day. Okay, bad metaphor, but still. I needed a release. My heart was pounding hard and I started to go into one of those bad places where I felt like I needed a beer, or two, or three, or four too many.

The slow song ended, and I turned around to see Clare looking at me with a hurt expression, stopped in the middle of the dance floor, walking away from Adam, and looking in my general direction. Our eyes connected, and I felt the sparks; the electricity; the nuclear fireworks erupting in my heart. Her eyes were a beautiful blue tonight, and the more I looked at her, the more I wanted her. She wore a sad smile, and at that moment I wanted nothing more than to kiss that sad smile into a happy one. But I had already hurt her enough. I didn't want to be the reason that she was upset.

That night, I went to an after-party. The music was very loud, and there were many girls who had discarded their dresses a long time ago. The air smelled of marijuana and booze, along with the scent of many sweaty teenagers in a sea of mixed perfumes. I wrinkled my nose and found myself at the punch bowl. I grabbed a cup and filled it to the top, before chugging it down immediately to drink away my depression. The alcohol stung my throat on the way down – fire in its wake, burning all the way down to my stomach before dissolving into a dull warming sensation.

I was filling my second cup, when a _very_ drunk girl with blonde hair came stumbling over. She was laughing manically and almost tipped the whole table as she ran into it. I jumped out of the way at the last minute. Filling a cup sloppily, she turned her bottle-blonde head towards me; her face covered with way too much foundation. "Oh my god, I am soooooooo sorry," she slurred. I shook my head, and she gave me the once over. I smirked to myself because I knew where this was going. I downed my second cup.

The world was foggy now, and the blonde was leading me up the stairs by my belt buckle. I didn't complain. She led me to an abandoned bedroom and pushed me up against the closed door. I didn't complain. She kissed me with way too much tongue and I could taste the foundation. I didn't complain.

We were both drunk, well, she was, and in need of a play toy.

I will spare you the details, but to use mediocre middle school terms, we _did the dirty._ It was quick, and afterwards, we parted like nothing ever happened. Honestly, I felt good. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster that only went up from there; an elevator that reached the sky and kept going.

It was a long lasting high, and I woke up the next morning in the same position as I was when you first met me. I stumbled home and came to an empty house. It was the usual; a horrible headache that lasted all day, but the only difference was, I felt even worse than I ever had in my entire life. My anchor let me sink. The alcohol didn't help me anymore. Because I found a new anchor:

It was Clare.

She was the only thing keeping me afloat now. If she let go, I will drown, and I will be lost in the depths of life forever.

I am really hoping that she will never let go.

**End of Chapter **


	10. Don't Go

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Don't Go_ by The Latency

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_Don't go, I could say that I don't miss you, but my heart knows, that you're the one for me._

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**Clare**

September ended with homecoming; which was on the last day of the month. October came with not much difference – although the leaves were turning a little bit more. People were starting to prepare for Halloween. The air was crisp and cool, and sometimes you got goosebumps if the wind hit your bare skin. It was an enjoyable feeling; although slightly numbing, but enjoyable nonetheless.

But with time came more things to feel than the cold. My feelings for Eli have increased tenfold. It was a terrifying feeling; falling for Eli so quickly, although I tried my best to hide it. I thought I was stupid to think that we could be something, but I couldn't help but think so. Even everyone else thought we were the cutest couple that would either be together forever - even though we continued to tell everyone that we weren't dating - or the cutest couple that would never be. You know, one of those superlative type things. I didn't want to be a superlative. I wanted it to be real. .

After a Friday night football game, I was with Alli, who I had become very close to lately. I had only known her for a month or two and we were already starting to become best friends. Our team lost, as per usual, but I was there because Alli dragged me along to socialize. Alli left in her aunt's car, and I went off on my own to the other parking lot to wait on my dad to come get me. He seemed to be the only level headed parent around here who volunteered to pick me up at 10 o'clock at night without asking me to carry mace; or not allowing me to go at all because "it's too wild." Parents these days.

The October night was crisp, and I hugged my jacket around myself as the wind blew. I brushed my hair out of my face, and noticed people out of the corner of my eye. It was Imogen. God, I hated her so much. We haven't discovered much from trailing her, but I kept my hopes up in case we got her good. But until that day, I was stranded on her little island of torments.

"Aw, look at the little understudy. Auditioned for anything lately? Too bad I already got the spot!" She glared at me, the rest of her friends joining in as if on cue. Oh, but if she only knew what I had against her. What I could do to destroy her. But Eli and I just stuck to spying on her, and so far, there has been literally nothing we could use to totally ruin her. I was disappointed, but I needed to keep my head.

"Go away Imogen," I said simply. I didn't even look her way, but continued on walking. They continued to call mean names after me. Some "understudy", and some "bitch", and probably one or two "sluts" in there somewhere.

Tears pricked my eyes. So I ran. My dad wasn't coming for another half-hour. Might as well get as far away as possible.

It all came out. I cried over my parent's divorce. I cried over having to leave Ottawa and come here because of my parent's divorce. I cried over letting a dumb bitch get to me. But mostly…

I cried over not telling Eli how I felt.

Collapsing into a heap on the sidewalk, I leaned against a chain link fence outside of the school grounds. It was completely dark, and no cars could be heard on the nearby road, because I went in the opposite direction that everybody was leaving the school from. I let it all out. All my frustration, all my insecurities, all my worries, all my troubles, all of it.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up immediately.

Raven black hair; green eyes.

Eli.

"I saw you run from the school. Adam dragged me along so he could try to flirt with Fiona. They're not even dating and already I'm a third wheel," he chuckled.

I cracked a little smile. It seems Eli was the only one to make that smile appear nowadays. I wiped a few tears away, and more fell from my eyes. I sniffled. I saw Eli extend a hand to me, and I got up. We locked eyes, and immediately I dropped his intense gaze. I looked down at our shoes, and let the tears fall.

Next thing I knew, he had his arms wrapped around me. His warm touch and husky scent enveloped me. I placed my arms around his neck and dug my head into his shoulder, crying harder. His embrace was warm, and I felt my entire body burn with desire.

"Don't let go," I whispered.

"Never," he said softly.

I smiled, and held Eli tighter. I'm not sure how long we stood there, but I didn't really mind. I just held on to his leather jacket and stained it with my salty tears.

I pulled back, and I looked at Eli; a stray tear falling down my cheek. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, and left his hand lingering on my cheek. I tilted my head in the direction of his hand, and placed my hand over his. I looked into his eyes – such a dark green on the outside but fades to lighter greens on the inside. I could get lost in those eyes; counting the different shades of green in his eyes. They shined with some sort of light that was never found anywhere else. It's what made them special. Seemingly ordinary but if you looked hard enough, you found something beautiful. I found the overwhelming urge to kiss Eli, and although the thought of doing such a thing made my heart race, I still felt afraid of rejection.

The tears stopped falling, and at the moment I was in a feeling of pure happiness. Eli smirked a little, and I dug my head into his neck and took in his amazing scent. He tightened his arms around my waist.

Eli looks at me with a concerned look, "Are you okay?"

"A little," I said, "I just don't know why I let people get to me so easily."

"You're not made of stone, Clare, don't try to be, either. Sometimes everybody has moments like this. You become vulnerable when it comes to people hitting you where it hurts most," he said.

"How is it that you know me so well?" I laughed.

Eli smirked, "It's just because in some ways, we're alike. I can relate what you're going through."

"Well, it's nice to have someone that understands," I whispered, looking at the ground silently. Eli lifted my chin with his thumb, "Me too."

The temptation to kiss him was unbearable now, and I could feel myself tilting my head and leaning in. Our eyes were connected, and my heart was beating so fast. I hoped he didn't hear it. I didn't want him to know how nervous I was. But I wanted him to know how much I wanted to kiss him. I was hoping he felt the same. I was hoping he would never leave. To my glee, Eli leaned in too, and just as our lips were about to touch…

"Ahem"

I tore away from Eli's intense stare, my heartbeat slowing down, and I blushed a little. Turning to my left I saw my father sitting in his car, with the passenger window down, pulled over by the sidewalk. Eli chuckled, and I pulled him in for one last hug, looked in his eyes, and turned to get in the car.

Watching Eli fade away in the distance, his hand in his hair, ruffling it a little, and turning back to the school, made me depressed. I immediately wanted to be next to him again.

"Should I ask?" my dad asked.

"No," I answered.

* * *

My sanity was a rubber band, and Eli was tearing it until it broke. But he also brought a refreshing feeling that I've never felt before. What it was – I still did not know. I got butterflies, and it was frustrating because he wouldn't just admit that he had the same feelings for me that I had for him. It was a love/hate type of feeling. I loved feeling the way that I did but I also hated it. I was plagued with the disease of puppy love but also struck with insecurity. I wasn't even sure if it was puppy love. It could be real or it couldn't. I was confused, and Eli being vague was not helping the situation at all; if anything it made it worse.

I would never admit it, but I was almost ready to give up. I was waiting and waiting, but what exactly was I waiting for? I hated not knowing what I was up against, and love was one thing that I didn't want to mess about with.

It was the same thing every day. Wake up, school, theatre, spy on Imogen, go home, eat, sleep, repeat. What made it worth going through? Eli. Always Eli. But what made it complicated and confusing?

Eli. Always Eli.

I had always wondered what it would be like to be in love, and for once in my life I think I'm almost there. I wasn't sure; I was caught in between. I didn't want to admit it to myself or other people because I was worried of what they'd think. But what was I so afraid of? I wasn't sure and it was tearing me apart. All I wanted was to be sure, and right now, I'm not.

Here I am still waiting, and for what, I'll never know.

* * *

**Eli**

I chased after her because I felt like it was right. I saw her crying, and my heart broke at the sight. I couldn't let her run away like that. She could get hurt.

But I trudged into dangerous waters.

We almost kissed. We came the closest to kissing that we ever had before. My heart was beating so loud, I could hear it in my ears. And _God,_ I wanted to kiss her so bad. She smelled like vanilla, and sunshine, and happiness, and I just wanted it. But the time wasn't right. It just wasn't in the cards for us tonight.

_Same time Monday? On the front steps?_ I texted her.

_Of course. _She responded.

**End of Chapter **


	11. I'll Put My Trust in Fate

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Hero _by Sterling Knight.

* * *

_I'll put my trust in fate, that you will come my way, and if it's right, it's undeniable, yeah, I'll be your hero_

* * *

**Eli**

I left Clare alone for the rest of the weekend. I was too afraid to talk to her. I thought she needed space, to maybe think about our almost kiss. I don't want to rush her into anything. Hell, I'm not even sure if she likes me back. I would be so disappointed if she didn't. It was getting increasingly difficult to be her friend when I liked her so much.

I wasn't sure what to do. My thoughts had so much to do with Clare that I could hardly focus on anything else. My dreams were filled with her beauty. I dreamed of the color of her eyes. I dreamed of running my fingers through her hair. I liked her so much; I thought I was going crazy.

I know there is a chance that she might not feel the same, so I will be careful not to give anything away. But if the opportune moment arises, I will take it. I will be there for her no matter what. I hope we have one of those loves that never fades; the kind you see in movies or read about in books.

Speaking of books, I recently read _Looking for Alaska_ by John Green, and I can relate to what Miles was feeling. The feeling that you loved someone so much that you weren't sure what to do. You just cherished everything and didn't think of the consequences. They made you feel free; like you were finally able to feel the thing that everyone is always talking about: love. Even in its simplest sense, love is more powerful than any other feeling in the world. It's that feeling you get in your chest; your heartbeat picks up and pounds at such a fast pace that you feel that it will explode. Your brain blocks out thinking of anything else besides that person, and in the end, you would do anything to protect them, and in Mile's case, be with them. I won't spoil the ending for you, but I will quote Mr. Green on this:

If people were rain, I was a drizzle, and she was a hurricane.

Clare is my hurricane. She is so radiant and beautiful, strong-willed yet timid, smart yet naïve and the one thing I have come to want in the world is her. But I am a drizzle. I am boring, although open-minded, negative, and I am so easily swept into the forceful winds that are – dare I say it – my love for Clare Edwards.

* * *

**Clare**

I didn't contact Eli all weekend, nor did he contact me. The memory of our almost kiss was fire in my mind – burning everything else, because it wasn't important. I went home calmly, and surprisingly, didn't cry again until I was safely tucked in bed. This time, I wasn't entirely sure why I was crying. I think it was just the disappointment of not being able to kiss Eli. Or it was just built up tears from the night of homecoming, where I was so shattered that I couldn't dance with Eli; where I lost the opportunity to tell him how I felt, and now I wasn't sure if I could ever tell him. My self esteem has plummeted to a new all time low. My confidence is shot. It would take weeks for me to tell Eli how I felt in stride. I fought the want to just text him and tell him, but that was cowardly. If I couldn't tell Eli to his face, it really didn't mean that much. I thought about broadcasting it on the internet, but again, that is cowardly, for the same reason as texting him. But I didn't have the guts to just spit it out.

God, I am such a bloody coward.

I dreaded seeing him on Monday. It would be awkward and angsty and I wasn't sure if I was up to face the world in just my jeans and a t-shirt. I felt like I had to put on a superhero costume in order to perform the great deeds that my future would ensue. My great deed right now was to get the courage to tell Eli I liked him.

I know that sounds lame, but to me, it is the greatest deed that I could ever accomplish in my sixteen years of life thus far, and the worst part was, I didn't have the superhero costume to do it in.

Much to my chagrin, Monday did come soon enough. I did promise Eli to tail Imogen after school, and I intended on keeping said promise. I wasn't sure why, but those 6 hours were the longest of my entire existence. Every minute was an hour, and an hour was a day. I found my classes to be more boring than usual and I lacked my usual work ethic. My leg bounced nervously throughout the whole class, so much so that when I would get up to leave, my leg would be shaky under me because I made it do another action other than bouncing up and down. I almost fell down the stairs twice and walked into at least four people.

I was just not myself today.

As he had promised, Eli was standing outside of the school on the front steps as he usually is. His head was bent down and he was reading _Invisible Monsters_ for probably the millionth time. His long, raven hair hid his face, but I could spot the outline of his strong jaw from under the black curtain. His leg also bounced with anticipation, and a part of me wondered if he was feeling the same thing I was. It was mid-October, and he wore a regular grey v-neck with black skinnies and signature leather jacket. As much as I wanted to avoid him right now, he looked extremely attractive and my heart did flips. I walked with shaky knees, before sitting down beside him. He looked up from his book, tilting his head to the side, and smirked at the sight of my arrival. His eyes were twinkling, and my breathing hitched a little.

"Hello, Mrs. Edwards, ready to take on the world of mischief?" he asked me, jumping up and stretching out a hand to help me stand. I took it, and relished the feeling of his skin against mine. His hands were callused yet warm, and I liked the cool contrast of his warm hands and cool rings. I stood up, and didn't want to let his hand go, and after about another second, in realization that I held his hand for way too long to be platonic, I dropped his hand, feeling the cold October wind it my palms once again.

"Only if it entails snacks, school lunches have drastically declined in quality and frankly, taste a little like cardboard," I said. Eli chuckled at this, reaching down once again to pick up his belongings, and without another word, we walked to his car together. We walked dangerously close to one another, and I was fighting the desire to reach out and touch his hand. But I didn't want to live with the bitter rejection.

"I was thinking we could tail her at the Dot like normal, and then go in ourselves for some of those snacks you so much desire," Eli said, glancing in my direction and smirking. I blushed wildly, hoping he didn't see it. _Don't think of it like a date, Clare,_ I thought, _don't get your hopes up._ My blush faded and we continued to walk until the black shining hood of Morty came into view.

We got into the car in silence, and Eli turned on the radio but set it low so we could still hear each other if we started talking. "That's odd," Eli said, "Imogen is going in the opposite direction of the Dot."

"What are you waiting for? Follow her!" I exclaimed, and Eli rushed to put the car in reverse, backed up, and drove off. Imogen was driving somewhere else today, and even though we were about four cars behind her, I could tell that she was alone.

She drove on some side roads, and as the area became more and more desolate, Eli literally had to drive at a snail's pace so we were far enough behind her so she didn't see us. We went into a forested area, and then Imogen turned into a rich community. It had a huge front gate with a touch pad to enter a password to open the gate. Eli and I decided to ditch Morty and parked on the side of the road, continuing our pursuit on foot. The sun was starting to set, so we were able to be masked by darkness.

"Watch it, Clare," Eli said, holding a hand out in front of me, pointing to the top of the gate, "There are security cameras. We can't jump the gate here." He said that like it was easy. Scoping around for more cameras, Eli led me to a well-manicured tree surrounded by bushes, against a white concrete wall that was on the outside of the residential area.

"Here's the deal. I'm going to go over first. Prop me up and get me over the wall. It isn't that high, so when I'm over, you climb up too, and I'll catch you on the way down," he said.

"Since when did we become super spies?" I asked.

"Since we decided to be total and complete badasses." He responded, climbing the tree and clearing the wall with ease. For me, it was a little more difficult. I was a good 4 inches shorter than Eli, and had to climb into the thinner branches in order to get close to the wall. I was afraid that the branches would crack and I would fall to my doom 5 feet below me. But I managed to grasp the wall tightly when I went up on my tip-toes. I could hear the branches groan with unrest as they started to break under my weight. I quickly grabbed hold of the wall with both hands, and using what little ground I could, jumped to get my upper half over the wall.

The branches snapped, and I felt my stomach drop as my feet touched air and there was nothing under me to stop me from falling. I used my inner strength to heave myself over the wall, and after I was on the wall, which was barely a foot in diameter, I peered down at Eli, 6 feet down and safely on the ground. He was smirking at me and reached his hands out to me, "Come on, Clare, I won't drop you," he said softly. My heart swooned at these words. When I fall, he won't drop me. How reassuring. If only he meant it in the way that I wanted him too.

I eased myself off of the wall, and two strong arms encircled my waist as my feet hit the ground. But Eli was struck a little off balance, and fell forwards, knocking my back against the wall and him against me. His hands were still at my hips when he looked at me. The sunset behind his head made his hair glow, and his eyes were sparkling with his forever sense of mischief and sarcasm. His lips were partially open, and he glanced down at my lips momentarily before letting me go.

"Let's find out where our victim went," he said, after a moment of awkwardness. My cheeks were on fire, and my body was burning with the desire to just grab his face and kiss him. Eli led the way, pausing only to listen for running car engines. Upon hearing none, and the fact that we had no idea where we were going, made us wander around aimlessly for about twenty minutes, before Eli spotted Imogen's car. She was parked in front of one of the nicest places in the neighborhood.

"Uh, Eli, that's Jake's truck." I pointed out, and sure enough, Jake's red truck was also sitting in the same driveway.

"Why would Imogen go to Jake's house?" Eli wondered outloud.

There were a few bushes in front of the Martins' house, as well as a few big trees that we could hide behind. A second story window was illuminated with light, and as we got closer, I could see the outline of Jake Martin stride into the room, and after him, a figure with side pigtails walked in.

"Jake and Imogen are in a room alone together," I whispered. Eli nodded.

The figures were talking, and then all of a sudden got really close. Then Imogen places her arms around Jake's neck and kisses him, and he picks her up at her waist and her legs wrapped around his torso. Jake bent down, and then the couple was out of sight. I assume he placed her on the bed.

"Did I just see what I think I just saw?" Eli asked, puzzled.

"Imogen is sleeping with Jake?" I asked.

"…and that's why she's gotten all the lead parts in the play!" Eli exclaimed, pointing at me.

I jumped up too, in realization, and at the same time as Eli, "That's why I didn't get the part of Hazel!"

"And that's why Imogen got away with pelting you with eggs!" Eli said.

"Let's not return to that," I said seriously, holding an accusatory finger in his direction. He chuckled.

"The only way to get Imogen back is to expose this secret to the school. Beat her at her own game." Eli said, cocking his head to the side, thinking.

"And how do you believe that we are going to do that, Poindexter?" I asked.

"I have a few ideas," Eli answered, rubbing his hands together and chuckling like a madman for effect. I giggled and slapped him in the arm.

And thus, we planned.

**End of Chapter **


	12. Til the Gravity's Too Much

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Treacherous _by Taylor Swift

* * *

_Put your lips close to mine, as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye, till the gravity's too much_

* * *

**Clare**

Eli and I planned meticulously, and finally the plan was complete. I won't spoil it for you, but you will find out eventually. This plan took many afternoons on Eli's cluttered bedroom floor – as any regular teenage boy's room would be – with a map of the school and everything planned on a notepad down to the minute. It was complex, but it could be done by two people.

Ever since that night when Eli and I jumped over that wall, I feel like maybe I do have a chance. The way he looked into my eyes was magnetic. His hands on me felt like electricity. I _really_ hope things can work themselves out, or else I would be extremely disappointed if it didn't, and not to mention completely shattered. Eli had become more important to me than I had ever imagined. If it were to just disappear and fall apart, I would too. That's how I know that my feelings for Eli are particularly strong – because I'm terrified to lose him.

It took us over a week to get the plan perfect – and we even practiced our plan b's or _what ifs_ in case something went wrong. The plan was separated into 4 parts, and each part had 2 or 3 separate back up plans. It was like a complicated graphic organizer: _If this happens, advance to step 2_, and _If not, advance to step 3_, or _in case of emergency, break glass, advance to Go and collect $200._

We went over the plan so much that we had it memorized. Eli chose to have the day to act be on Friday, exactly two weeks before opening night of _The Fault in Our Stars._ I had high hopes that this plan would turn out just as well as I wanted it to turn out.

Sure enough, Friday morning came briskly. Eli drove me to school, and we went over some last minute plans and had a little mini pump up pep-rally type deal to get us excited and energized. This involved blaring rock music with the windows down, head banging, and air guitarring.

We came prepared with high tech walkie-talkies and dark attire. Eli suggested synchronized watches but I told him we a) weren't the FBI or CIA and b) didn't have the technology available to us.

And from then on, we made the transformation from Eli and Clare, to total and complete badasses.

Dropping me off at the front steps, Eli glanced at me with those sparkling green eyes, "You know what to do, Clare," he said. I nodded, doing quick salute and getting out of the car. My first job was to watch Eli park the hearse, and then make sure the coast was clear for him to sneak into one of the back doors to the control room. It was an easy entrance, whispering into my walkie-talkie, "_Fly, eagle, fly,"_ which was code for "the coast is clear".

My job was just as easy. I snuck letters into both Imogen and Jake's lockers, telling them to meet the other at a certain place. All that I hoped for was that they went without questioning, and that their lust-induced bodies will do as they did when Eli and I saw them at Jake's house. That was our plan: to catch them in the act, and broadcast it to the entire school, but it would be anonymous. No one would know that it was Eli and I, hence the dark wardrobe and secrecy.

After that, there was nothing we could do until the afternoon announcements that Mr. Simpson would be talking about. Upcoming things for student council, buy tickets for the school play, yada yada yada. I think he figures that by having announcements later in the day, people will be more awake to pay attention.

Walking to sixth period, I noticed Imogen open her locker and find my note. She opened it and smiling after reading it, rushed to put her things in her locker and ran down an empty hallway to the boiler room. It was in the most secluded hallway in the school. The only classes down there were electives that were quiet, like photography, culinary arts, and the like. I made sure to walk by Jake's locker too, and saw him do the same thing Imogen did. He ran off to the same location.

_"Bait the worms, eagle,"_ I whispered in my walkie-talkie.

It wasn't long until I got the response, _"Fire in the hole, sparrow."_ I nodded. Everything was set. Eli rewired the connections from the news room camera to the one in the boiler room that he planted. So he can cut Simpson off when the automatic timer goes off exactly a minute after the news start. After that, the student body will be watching the lusty hookup of Jake Martin and Imogen Moreno, and the best part was, they were completely oblivious to the whole thing.

And the other best part: everything was automated and hidden so well (Eli planted the camera in one of the ceiling tiles) that we didn't have to stand around doing any of the work at all. With the wires redone and the camera functioning, all we had to do was sit in class and watch the action. Although I might advert my eyes, because I really don't want to see Imogen and Jake getting it on, because that's repugnant.

Sitting in Mrs. Dawes' class, she was talking about the importance of symbolism in _Lord of the Flies_, when the news theme came on, and then Simpson's face appears on the television screen. I made eye contact with Eli, and he winked. I blushed, before paying attention to the TV. It had been about thirty seconds in, and I was shaking on the inside with anticipation but did my best not to show it on the outside. I looked over at Eli again. He had a look of nervousness on his face, but only I could stare at the clock and wait for it to strike.

_...58_  
_  
…59_

_…60_

I received a text, "_The Eagle has landed,"_ from Eli. Simpson's face was cut off and it was adverted to a small, dusty, and messy room that looked like the location of an illegal drug deal. There were two figures in the room – I identified them as Imogen and Jake – and Jake had Imogen pushed up against the wall. They were both naked, and Imogen's legs were wrapped tight around Jake's waist. Her moans filled up the room, vibrating off the walls, as Jake pushed into her hard. _Is this what it is like to watch porn?_ I thought, _because this is disturbing. _

There were miscellaneous whispers thrown around the room. I only caught a few words, but mostly they went along the line of _"how disgusting", "I never would have guessed", or "that explains a lot."_ I smirked to myself in satisfaction. I looked over at Eli again, and he smirked as well.

Mrs. Dawes wasn't really paying attention, but as soon as she heard the first moan, her head snapped up and her jaw jumped because she realized what she was watching. She quickly got up and tried to turn off the TV, but she couldn't find the remote and the device was perched so high that she couldn't reach it. The entire class was erupting in laughter, although some were highly disgusted and shut their ears with their hands.

Much to Dawes' happiness, the news was cut off completely. There was a black screen for awhile, some static, and then Mr. Simpson appeared on the television again. "It seems that there has been an interruption with our wiring. Please excuse the inconvenience." Simpson pursed his lips and a wave of anger crossed his face. The screen went black again.

Not two minutes later, the intercom sounded, _"Jake Martin and Imogen Moreno come to Mr. Simpson's office immediately."_ I had to stop myself from whooping and hollering in complete glee. Eli was smiling, and then the bell rang.

I saw Imogen come out of the hallway, happy as can be, and then the whispers hit her. At first she didn't pay any attention, but then she realized that people were talking about her. She walked a little faster. A few seconds later, Jake came out of the same hallway, his hair a little messed up, but what he got, was the cheers from the football team, as they clapped him on the shoulder and almost hoisted him into the air, as he is standing there with a look of confusion on his face. One of the players leaned in and whispered to him, and Jake's entire demeanor changed. He literally took off running around the corner, down to the office.

Eli and I kept our happiness in until we got to his car and drove a good distance away, and Eli shouted, "Back to the Nest!" which was code for "mission accomplished", and then the loud music started up again and we head banged all the way home. We went back to his house, where Eli declared it a time for celebration. I couldn't have been happier. My parents were going out for the weekend and wouldn't be back until late Sunday night, and Cece and Bullfrog didn't mind me staying over. I was there enough as it was, even if I was only their son's friend.

But little did they know, I wanted to be more than that.

"Cheers!" Eli said, clinging two wine glasses together. He actually had wine stocked in his room, "_for special occasions,"_ he said. I never took him for a wine drinker, but neither was I. He diluted the wine a little bit with water so it wasn't as strong, being that I was a first time drinker for recreational purposes, but that didn't stop the tingly feeling I got in my stomach with every glass that I enjoyed. Snack foods littered the floor – along with a cascade of at least twenty pillows and blankets all over the bed. We hung some sheets up, connecting to the wall, then the ceiling, then the other wall. We wanted to build a fort, so a fort we did. And we called it the Castle.

We laughed all night, watching movies and cuddling, too drunk to realize that we were just friends.

"Eli?" I asked, after the rolling credits of _Easy A_ came on.

"Yes, Clare?" Eli mumbled, his eyes fluttering with drunkenness and cloudy, but still beautiful.

"Do you like me?" I asked.

"I think you're lovely," he answered.

"Is that it?" I asked.

"Of course not, but I didn't know if you wanted to hear the entire list that I have memorized since the first moment I saw you," he elaborated. He turned to face me, his eyes misty and his hair disheveled.

"Shoot," I said. I took another sip of wine and faced him, sitting crisscross apple sauce.

"I think you are beautiful, radiant, sweet and intelligent. I love the color of your eyes. You smell like vanilla, and I like vanilla. Your skin is so smooth that I want to run my fingers over it countless amounts of times. I have to fight the urge to kiss your lips because the desire is too much. I love the way you read books and write poetry and act out a scene that makes me want to cry because it is so beautiful. You're a star, my shining star, that keeps me going every day, and I know that is really cheesy, but it's true. You're beautiful, and I like you, Clare Edwards," Eli said. My heart fluttered.

I leaned forward and kissed him. A simple kiss that lasted maybe a second or two, and when I pulled away, the look in Eli's misty eyes was different than it was five seconds ago. It was a mixture of shock and desire at the same time. It might have been the alcohol, but he was looking at me like I was golden, and I loved every second of it. Eli was my center of gravity. I was pulled toward him at a constant rate and now this is where we would collide.

Eli cupped the back of my head and smashed our lips together. It was a tangle of frantic lips and clinging to the other in fear that one of us would break away.

All of a sudden, I am on my back, Eli positioned neatly between my legs. His breath was warm and smelled faintly of wine, but it was a sweet smell, not a sour one. We devoured each other's lips; Eli's leaving mine for a second to kiss down my jaw and to my neck, sending shockwaves through my body. He bit down a little, but instead of it hurting, it felt _really_ good. A small moan escaped my lips, and I almost slapped my hand over my mouth at the sound of my own pleasure, but Eli merely smirked against my skin before biting down again somewhere else, making the skin red.

Tease.

Eli set his chin in the valley between my breasts and looked up at me. His eyes were shining and beautiful and I kissed his lips again, softer this time. We parted with a slight popping noise.

"Clare?" Eli said.

"Yes, Eli?" I answered.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked. My heart jumped. He was asking me to be his. Well, I already was. I would have jumped miles into the sky if it meant I would be with Eli. I had known him for a few short months and I have fallen for him faster than I ever thought I would fall for anyone.

Without even thinking about it, I said, "Of course," and he kissed me again.

That night, I slept peacefully in Eli's arms - both of them wrapped around my waist protectively. His bed smelled like him, and I was in a cocoon of Eli, and I loved it. He placed small butterfly kisses on the back of my neck and my shoulder as I fell asleep in paradise.

**End of Chapter **


	13. Her Clumsy Little Heart

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _Clumsy Little Heart_ by Every Avenue

* * *

_All around her, people stare as she slowly falls apart, picking up pieces of her clumsy little heart_

* * *

**Clare**

"I'm telling you, Fi, it was magical. I felt fireworks and I was dizzy," I said, popping a chip into my mouth.

"Are you sure it wasn't the wine talking?" Fiona quipped, smirking. I threw a few chips at her and she giggled, her curls bouncing, "Have you had any more problems with Imogen?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"Not since her secret relationship with Jake had been released to the school. I'm telling you, whoever thought of that, and actually caught onto their game is a true genius," I smiled, chewing another chip.

"Clare…you didn't," Fiona said.

"So what if I did?" I asked tentatively, chewing slowly, debating on telling her that it was me.

"You _purposely_ found out Imogen's secrets and exposed them to the school?" She asked, surprised.

I stopped chewing, and mumbled, "It was Eli's idea…" Fiona scowled.

Eli walks up, "Hey, Fiona, and hello, beautiful," he kissed me lightly on the lips and sat down next to me, leaning his shoulder into mine, before taking my right hand with his left. I blushed, and Fiona still scowled.

"Eli, did you give Clare the idea to humiliate someone, possibly for the rest of their life?" Fiona asked slowly, raising her eyebrows. Eli's hand twitched, and he looked at me as if to ask why Fiona knew, but I pursed my lips and dropped my eyes.

"She kinda deserved it, Fi," he said, "She made Clare miserable and Clare doesn't deserve to be treated that way when she didn't do anything wrong. Imogen made everyone's lives hell. I figured it was time to give her a taste of her own medicine," he finished. Fiona's eyebrows lowered, as if testing the idea, and she dropped her scowl.

"But still," she said, "No one deserves to be embarrassed like that."

Before either Eli or I could answer, over the intercom was Mr. Simpson's voice, "_Clare Edwards and Eli Goldsworthy to the front office please."_ I felt people's heads turn in our direction, and I clenched my teeth before squeezing Eli's hand. He gave me a reassuring look, and we bid farewell to Fiona, who half saluted and half waved us off.

I looked over my shoulder, and never before had I seen Fiona so sad.

* * *

"Due to Mr. Martin's and Miss Moreno's indiscretion, I have a very important question to ask the both of you," Mr. Simpson said. He laced his fingers together and looked expectantly at us before continuing, "Miss Edwards, I would like you to take Miss Moreno's place as Hazel in the upcoming play." I gasped and looked at Eli, who was smiling, and squeezed my hand.

"And you, Mr. Goldsworthy, are to take his place as director." Eli went frozen. I felt the air drop literally ten degrees, and I was pretty sure Eli stopped breathing. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles and he took a deep breath.

"Me, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Eli, you; I may be a lot older than the both of you, but I know passion when I see it – something Mr. Martin did not have. I give you my apologies that I didn't ask you to be director to begin with," Simpson said insightfully.

"T-thank you, Mr. Simpson," Eli said uneasily. I smiled at him and his tension released a little.

"You're welcome, Eli. You two can go," Mr. Simpson said, waving his hand at us as if telling us to skedaddle. I took the notion to stand up first, murmuring a thank you to Simpson, and walking Eli steadily out of the office. He seemed like he was in a trance; in total shock of what had just occurred.

Walking into the empty hallway, I stopped and kissed Eli lightly on the cheek. He turned to me and smirked, before leaning in and capturing my lips in a searing kiss. I happily responded; threading my fingers in his soft hair. He held my waist gingerly, and I felt his muscles flex as he held onto me. But it was over too soon, and he leaned his forehead against mine; touching the tips of our noses together and laced both of our hands in a strong embrace.

"We should go on a date," Eli said suddenly.

"And where do you think we would go?" I asked him, interested.

He chuckled, and his warm breath tickled my nose, and he touched his lips to my forehead before murmuring, "I don't care, as long as I'm with you," he said. My heart leaped out of my chest.

"Who would have taken you to be the cheesy one in this relationship," I quipped.

"I ooze with cheesiness, darling, and I do hope you enjoy it, because I really am a hopeless romantic at heart," Eli said. I giggled, kissed him lightly again, and we went our separate ways to class. My cheeks were inflamed; radiating heat at just the thought of Eli. I loved being with him. He made me so happy.

I made a detour to the bathroom, but stopped short at the door when I heard a whimper. I closed the door soundlessly, because I knew it had a tendency to creak. Someone was sobbing uncontrollably in one of the stalls, and I crept quietly to the source of the sound. I discreetly glanced under the door, and noticed fancy pink ballet flats from under the door.

Fiona

"Fi," my voice rang out, quieter than I intended. The sobbing stalled but the sniffling continued, "Are you okay?" I used my best sympathetic voice. The stall door clicked as she unlocked the door and stepped out slowly. Her face was slightly puffy and her cheeks red and slightly wet. Her curls were in disarray, and her dress crinkled. She pressed her palms to the dress and flattened it out.

"I'm fine," she said, turning quickly away and going to the mirror, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and wiping away the smeared makeup.

"I know you're lying," I told her, stepping into the reflection of the mirror, and I could see her flinch slightly at my bluntness.

"And I am," she said quickly, "I just don't want you to worry."

"I do worry, Fi, more than you think," I told her, stepping forward.

She met my eyes, "And I appreciate that. I had a weak moment. But I'll be okay; everything will be okay," she said. I opened my arms to her and she curled into my embrace, sniffling a little more.

"I'm here if you need me," I said.

"I don't think that will be necessary," she pulled back, "but thank you," she nodded.

"Anytime," I said, and she pursed her lips into a sad smirk, grabbed her bag, and walked away.

* * *

"God, Clare, you take _so _long to get ready!" Eli called up the stairs. I huffed, placing my curling iron down on the counter and spraying some hairspray into the new curls I just formed, "Almost done!" I hollered back, ruffling my curls and applying some mascara. Blinking several times, I applied my perfume and took one last look in the mirror. I was dressed in a simple turquoise dress with thin straps and white flats to accompany. I strolled down the stairs leisurely, taking note at how Eli's eyes nearly popped out when he saw me. He smirked, and ambled over to me with his hands in his front pocket.

"You look ravishing," he said, placing his hands on my hips and kissing me lightly. He was wearing a black button down shirt with three quarter sleeves. They were folded sloppily, and his skinny jeans hung snug on his hips. The first button of his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and I caught a glimpse of his neck under his strong jaw line. His hair was as unruly as ever, but I found it extremely sexy.

"I like your word choice, Goldsworthy," I teased, "but I think that's an exaggeration."

"Oh, trust me, it isn't," he countered quickly, smirking that smirk that made me get butterflies, the _drop-your-panties_ smirk that drove me crazy. He did a drawn-out bow, waving his hand in circles and guiding me to the door. I laughed, and he opened the door for me, and closed it behind him as he walked out. He took a hold of my hand and interlaced our fingers, half-walking and half jogging to my side of the car to open my door for me.

"Too kind, Eli, too kind," I said, blushing.

"Nothing is too much for malady," he responded, capturing my lips in a kiss before easing my door shut. He ran around the front of the car, jumping with his butt on the hood and jumping off. He was very playful this evening, and I loved it. He was smiling more than he usually did, and kissed my lips again before starting up Morty. I felt butterflies in my stomach and my lips burned where he kissed me. I felt like I was flying; my mind on cloud nine and not currently in my body at the moment. Being with Eli was exhilarating. He made me feel things I didn't know was possible.

_So maybe this is was love is. _

No, Clare, no, stop it. You must not say that word; not yet. It is too soon; too early for such rashness. I scolded myself internally, glancing over at Eli as he drove out of my driveway, leaning over to lace our fingers together over the middle console. I kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times, and I enjoyed to watch him drive. His biceps flexed every time he made a turn, and I blushed when he caught me staring.

"Like what you see, Edwards?" He smirked.

"A lot, actually," I responded. Eli pulled up to a little Italian restaurant. He turned off the engine and clicked open his seatbelt and then mine. I scooted over to him and he immediately wrapped one arm around my waist and held my chin with the other hand. I tangled my hands in his hair and tasted him with fervor. He was warm and smelled good and tasted vaguely of mint and I loved it. He licked my lips, and I met his tongue for the first time. It was a little slimy, but he was a good kisser, so I wasn't complaining. He bit down on my bottom lip softly as he pulled away, and brushed my lip with his thumb.

_"Bellissima," _he whispered, running his finger over my cheek, leaving me blushing.

"You speak Italian?" I said, confused.

"Don't get used to it. It's one of the only words I know. I've just never had a chance to use it," Eli said, kissing my forehead. I smiled, and puckered out my lower lip, saying "Aw," and he blushed.

Eli got out and opened my door for me again, and taking my hand enthusiastically, led me to a hostess podium, and whispered something I couldn't hear. The hostess nodded, and smiled as she led us to a private room in the back. My mouth dropped at the sight of a small tea light candle in the center of the table, and there were fancy water glasses and three sets of silverware that I never understood each individual definition for. There was soft piano music in the background.

"Your table, Mister Goldsworthy", the hostess said, guiding us to our seats, handed us menus and took our drink orders.

"Water, please," I said, not wanting to use the sugary option and go for soda. It would make my teeth feel gross and I didn't want that.

"You're lame, Edwards," Eli stuck out his tongue, "Coke, please," he said; the hostess writing down our orders and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. The glass on the door was opaque; you could tell someone was coming but you couldn't see them clearly, nor could they see you.

"So how hard is it to get a reservation in a private room in a fancy restaurant?" I asked, lacing my fingers together under my chin.

"Not as hard as you think. All I did was call and request it," Eli shrugged.

"Honestly, Eli, it's too much. I would have been okay with a movie at home," I said.

"I wouldn't be that good of a boyfriend if the first actual date we ever had was at your house watching a movie." I liked the way he said _boyfriend_ so easily; like it rolled off of his tongue at an instant, and I loved the way it sounded.

"And I wouldn't be that good of a girlfriend if I took all your spoils and you felt it was for granted," I countered.

Eli avoided the subject, "I like the way you say girlfriend," he tilted his chin up and raised his eyebrows repeatedly and closed his eyes, "Do it again," he said, pretending he had the chills.

"Mufasa," I said, alluding to _The Lion King_.

"Is it bad that in the back of my mind, I was thinking the exact same thing?" He asked.

"You have a soft spot for Disney movies? Who would have thought?" I said sarcastically, dropping my hand to the table and he took it and rubbed his thumb on my hand.

"I still cry every time Mufasa dies," he said, fake sniffling.

"Aw, how cute, Eli has feelings," I quipped.

"For you," he answered. I blushed. A new face returned with our drinks, and introduced themselves as our waiter, Cody. I ordered fettuccini alfredo and Eli ordered chicken parmesan. We talked and laughed throughout the whole dinner. Eli made me feel so at ease. He would lean over the table to kiss me and I would be worried that the candle would set him or me on fire, "Come on Clare, live dangerously," he jiggled his eyebrows and kissed me again.

The food was delicious, and I thanked Eli time and time again for the wonderful date. "It isn't even over yet. Don't thank me yet," he said sarcastically, leading me out of the restaurant. He took me back to Morty, opening my door, of course, and hopped in, but he didn't turn the engine on. He reached over me and clicked open the glove compartment. He took out a little gift wrapped package with a giant bow on it. Frankly, the bow was bigger than the present itself.

"What's this, Eli?" I asked as he handed it to me.

"Something that I've been compiling since I first met you," he answered.

Unwrapping the gift, it was revealed to be a mix tape. "You got this from Perks of Being a Wallflower, didn't you?" I asked.

"Damn, you got me," he said, hiding his head in mock shame. I kissed his cheek. The tape was entitled _Thinking of You_.

Popping in the tape into Morty's ancient tape player, the first song started to play. Kellin Quinn's voice emitted beautifully through the tape, and I glanced at Eli, who was blushing.

"How did you know I adored Kellin Quinn?" I asked.

"I guessed," Eli smiled, "there is a song list on the back," he said, pointing to the tape. I took the tape out briefly to glance at the back:

1) Stomach Tied in Knots – Sleeping with Sirens  
2) I Like You – Man Overboard  
3) Angel With a Shotgun – The Cab  
4) You Had Me At Hello – A Day to Remember  
5) Kiss Me – Ed Sheeran  
6) I Must Be Dreaming – The Maine  
7) When the Day Met the Night – Panic! At the Disco  
8) Kissing in Cars – Pierce the Veil  
9) Your Guardian Angel – The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus  
10) Your Nickel Ain't Worth My Dime – Sleeping with Sirens

"I love how all the songs are cute and sweet until the last one and it's like "_I want to get you naked." _I quipped, putting the tape back in. Eli smiled uneasily, and I kissed him on the cheek.

And in that moment, no, I did not swear we were infinite; I swear that there was never a moment where I felt as though we were the only people in the world. Maybe that is being infinite, but I didn't want to make a cliché pop culture reference.

Eli leaned over and kissed me, then started the engine again. We were masked by darkness as we went through the night. Eli drove on some back roads that I didn't recognize. We were surrounded by trees and some sparse farms that dotted the hills on the outskirts of Toronto. He drove to a field, and ushered me out of the car, and led me to the back of Morty. He lifted the back – his muscles flexing as he did so, and I internally swooned. Inside was a spacious back with a few pillows and blankets to decorate.

"I wanted to watch the stars with you," Eli said, guiding me into the back of Morty. We lay down side by side, and I curled into Eli's side, his arm around my shoulder, and the other resting on my hip. He drew little circles into my hip, and I had to stop myself from throwing my everything, aka, my virginity, my v-card, whichever terminology you prefer, at him because it was driving me crazy.

"The stars are beautiful tonight, and it's so quiet," I inquired.

"It is peaceful. I used to come out here a lot to think," he said.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked.

"Since I was nine; my parents let us move because I was bullied really badly at my old school. It gave me a chance to start over," he elaborated.

"I am the opposite. I came here to start again and got bullied," I said sarcastically.

Eli turned to me, furrowing his eyebrows, "Imogen won't torture you anymore. I won't let her," he said, kissing my temple.

"Promise?" I asked.

"Promise," he assured me. My heart swelled, and in a leap of faith, I pressed my lips against his. He moved his lips softly against mine, holding my chin while I held his hair. His lips were heaven, and I was entranced. He ran his tongue over my bottom lip again, and again I opened to him, allowing him to kiss me how he pleased. He was a _really_ good kisser.

I pulled on his hair slightly, and he groaned, and responded by kissing me harder; his hand moving down to grip my waist. We turned more into each other, and it was then that I noticed a growing hardness in his jeans. I smirked to myself at his eagerness, and teased him a bit by reaching my hand down and brushing against him. He detached his lips from mine, and growled lowly, "You're going into dangerous waters, Edwards," he kissed me again, hard.

"Live dangerously," I said breathlessly, imitating him from earlier with the candle on our table at dinner. He smirked and kissed my jaw and down my neck. I felt a pleasurable numbness wherever his lips touched. It was soothing and fiery all at once. I bit my lip and softly moaned, immediately slapping my hand against my mouth when I realized that sound I just made. Eli smirked against my skin and continued his slow, torturous ministrations. He was probably amused with me that I'm a virgin and just him kissing my neck is enough to send me into a frenzy. I was putty in his hands, and I think he enjoyed it. He grazed my teeth on my neck, and I stifled back another moan.

"Clare, you sound hot when you moan. Don't hold back," he immediately removed himself from my neck, before kissing my lips again.

"This could get heated," I said.

"I didn't plan on sleeping with you tonight, Clare," he answered.

I blushed, "I-I know that, it's just, I'm nervous about being intimate." I said softly.

"Why?" Eli asked, "You're beautiful, and I'm crazy about you; everything about you. I really, really like you," he said. I blushed more.

"I really, really like you too," I responded.

"Lucky me," he said, kissing me again, softer this time.

I was just about to take the kiss further when Eli suddenly stopped. He reached in his pocket, his phone lit up. He answered it, "Hello?" He obviously didn't know who it was, "Who is this?" he asked. The person identified themselves, and he eased, "Oh, hello Declan." Who is that? I looked at him oddly. All of a sudden his face dropped, and he had a look of sheer fear on his face. He pursed his lips and licked his bottom lip slowly, and swallowed, as if his throat suddenly dried.

"Oh my God," he whispered. He murmured a goodbye to this Declan person, and hung up the phone solemnly, and then sat up, quickly getting out of the back of Morty.

"Eli, what's wrong?" I followed him. He stood in the middle of the field looking up at the stars, paralyzed.

He didn't turn to face me when he said, "It's Fiona."

"She's dead."

**End of Chapter **


	14. Dreamless in Early Graves

I am two weeks late with my update oh god I am so sorry. Finals are coming up and I had interviews and auditions and ugh. For the time being, updates are being exclusively moved to sometime over weekends only. Anywhere between Friday-Sunday. I can't crank out two good chapters a week on this busy schedule. My apologies – enjoy!

This chapter is really sad. The last half kind of lacks dialogue because it would have been 10000000 words and boring if I wrote it out like a conversation.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, or _A Match Onto Water_ by Pierce the Veil

* * *

_I kissed the scars on her skin, I still think you're beautiful, and I don't ever want to lose my best friend. I screamed out, "God, you vulture, bring her back or take me with her!"_

* * *

**Clare**

The shock of Fiona's death was traumatizing to all of Degrassi. Even across a campus of over a thousand students – just the loss of one was enough to create a void. Seeing crying people in the hallway became a common occurrence, and moments of silence even more so. But what got to me was, most of the people didn't even know her, and yet they were sad over somebody they didn't even know. But I know that it wasn't because they didn't know her; it was because she was gone for good.

Play rehearsals continued, but they were never the same. There was no bubbly Fiona to brighten our spirits, or give us nods of approval when Jake had used to yell at us. She always had something positive to say, even if there was nothing positive about it. A mistake meant to try again, and every completed scene was a job well done. Never in my life had I ever believed Fiona to be something on the inside that she wasn't on the outside. She just looked so happy.

But when I found out she had ended her life, I knew otherwise.

I spent most of my time with Eli, because he was the only person who seemed to understand. He had lost a friend once in middle school to suicide. They had come from a broken home and their father was thoroughly abusive to them, and one day they just couldn't take it anymore. Eli told me that afterwards, the boy's father had changed his ways and had gone to rehab, went back to college, and made something of himself. But he never remarried nor had another child, because the one he had lost could never be replaced.

The one thing I couldn't understand was why. Why did she do it? Why did she succumb to the pain?

And mostly, why didn't she tell me?

I wonder if there was something I could have done. I know that sitting here in the corner of my room with all the lights off, and a pile of tissues scattered in a circle around me was not the proper way to remember Fiona. But I just couldn't stop crying, because I felt like I could have done something to make her not kill herself. I wish she would have told me. I was probably the last person to see her alive. I tried to reach out to her, but I didn't want to force it. A part of me wonders what would have happened if I did force it. If I had driven her home and stayed with her. Maybe Fiona wouldn't have killed herself. Maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty.

But now she is gone, and I realize that there is nothing I can do about it.

So I throw my tissues away, get up off of the floor, and think of ways for her memory to continue. Nobody deserves to be forgotten, and I will make it my mission to make sure Fiona is never buried among forgotten memories.

* * *

School was a blur; I know that it usually is, and right now for most people it is blurred with tears. But for me, it was blurred with the desire to avenge.

Without thinking, I found myself in Simpson's office. He looked at me oddly, no doubt questioning my determination. "Mr. Simpson," I said, welcoming myself in and sitting in one of his two chairs in front of his desk.

"Mrs. Edwards," he responded, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I want to build a garden in memory of Fiona Coyne," I deadpanned.

Mr. Simpson pursed his lips, "Clare, you can't just say you want something done. It requires resources, volunteers, and most importantly, money."

"But surely we can find the funds to build a garden for her? She would like that. She likes," I paused, "_liked_ flowers." I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Mrs. Edwards, I knew her too. I can understand your wanting to make Miss Coyne's mark on this school so that she can never be forgotten, but we simply do not have the funds to do so." My heart fell.

"What can we do to get the money?" I asked.

"Mrs. Edwards, it is November. We just had homecoming, and Christmas activities are coming up, and then we prepare for prom. Not much leeway to create an additional fundraiser for Student Counsel to worry about." Mr. Simpson elaborated, clasping his hands together.

"Surely we can do something," I said desperately.

"If you can supply the funds, then be my guest. I will get various clubs to help build if you can get the money. I'm sure that Katie Matlin would be happy to collaborate with you on ideas," Mr. Simpson suggested, including the student body president. I made a mental checklist, and inquiring the help of the most important person in the school just made top priority.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Simpson." I quickly sat up, grabbing my bag and rushed out, but before I crossed the threshold, his voice rang behind me, "Clare," I turned, "I miss her too. Good luck," he said. I nodded, and walked out of the office calmly.

Upon reaching my locker, I am approached by Eli, who snakes both of his arms around my waist and cuddles into my neck, placing a solitary kiss on my shoulder, then my cheek. I turned to him, smiled weakly, and evaporated into his arms, sobbing softly, as he ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead.

I pulled back and looked into his beautiful emerald eyes, and he smirked at me. "Hey," I said quietly. He murmured a "Hi," and leaned in for a kiss. He tilted his head slightly, never taking his eyes off of me, and grasped my hips softly as he captured my lips in a slow, loving kiss. His hair tickled my face slightly as it brushed against me, and I placed my hands on his shoulders, welcomed by the cool touch of his leather jacket and the warm feel of his hands on me. He leaned his forehead against mine as he pulled away, slipping his thumbs into the loops on my jeans, and running his fingers over my skin under my shirt that covered my hips. My skin grew goose bumps at the feeling of contrast between his warm hands and cool rings. This boy was always a contradiction of warm and cool, and I loved it.

"Are you okay?" Eli asked.

"I'm alright; just paid a visit to Simpson." I said, playing with the hair at the bottom of his neck.

"About?" He asked.

"I want to build a garden in Fi's memory," I inquired, looking down for a moment, and looked up to be met with the same green eyes that I loved so much.

"How did that go?" Eli asked, running his fingers over my skin again, making it hard for me to concentrate.

"He said that we didn't have the funds, so if I am able to collect the money, he will supply volunteers," I responded.

"How do you suppose we get the money?" He raised his eyebrows.

I huffed out a breath, biting my bottom lip in thought, "I don't know." I said.

"Why don't you put an announcement up? Like ask Marisol to ask for donations for the Fiona Coyne Society?" Eli suggested.

"I like your idea, although I might change the name of the charity. I don't think Fi would approve either," I tried to say in a joking manner. Eli smirked a little.

"And what do you suggest we name it?" He joked back, smirking and his eyes smoldering. My stomach twisted sharply and I fought the urge to gasp at the sudden desire to drag him into a dark room and jump his bones.

"H-how about the _In Memory of Fiona Coyne Association_?" I proposed. Eli squinted his eyes, thinking, and pursed his lips.

"I don't think she would want to be remembered as the girl who committed suicide, either," he said.

"Then what do you suggest?" I asked.

"How about _It Gets Better_?" Eli raised his eyebrows.

"I like that." I said simply.

"I think Fiona would too." He answered.

"Then it's settled," I said, "Now how do we raise money?" I asked.

"I think donations would be good to start, but if we need to, we can do like a Charity Walk or something." Eli said.

"Perfect," I responded, smiling.

"You're perfect," he whispered. I kissed him again, and the bell that dismissed people to lunch rang. I kissed Eli again.

"Want to play hooky for the rest of the day and go to Lowe's to get an idea of how much money we will need to buy all the things to build the garden? And look at flowers?" Eli suggested.

"Lead the way, darling," I said, giggling, "But first, let me drop off the announcement at the news room. Then let's get out of here." I smiled, and Eli grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers, as we ran off in the direction of the news room, and I wrote quickly out on a piece of paper my announcement, then Eli and I snuck out the back door of the auditorium and drove off.

* * *

Eli and I spent the rest of the day until Lowe's closed the doors at 10. We sat in the outdoors section with all of the gazebos and comfy chairs, with a notebook and two pencils. We sat there planning on how to create the garden. Nothing too plain, but nothing to extraordinary; but Fiona was an _extra_, extraordinary person, so we have to represent it right in order to reflect her. She liked modern, yet antique; like things you find in an in-the-wall outlet store that are made of tarnished copper, but are elegant enough that it could be the centerpiece of her modern loft. It had to be done right.

After about an hour, we finally agreed upon a plan for the garden. We knew that there was an area around the school that was at a smaller incline than the rest of the school; like a giant object fell into the sky and just created a crater in the ground, and then just disappeared. Through interactions with Bullfrog's friends, we can get the concrete foundation done for free, and he also knows someone we can contact about the piping, because Eli and I really wanted to have a fountain. But that was for later on, because we still had to make a rough list of supplies that we need for the garden itself.

On the bottom of the crater, after the concrete is set down, Eli and I found this fountain that looked like black, flat rocks with water seeping through the cracks. The rocks were shaped like a volcano with no hole at the top, and the water cascaded down the side like lava. We are attaching the fountain to a pond – which we have decided NOT to put fish in, because fish require food and care and if they die, they have to be taken out, and that seems like way too much work.

The fountain will be in the center of a square, and four stone paths will lead at an elevated angle from the square into each of the cardinal directions. On the right of each path, will be three elevated boxes that all have flowers and plants in them. The idea is really complex, and thinking about where to put everything was starting to give me a headache. Imagining it in my head and having Eli draw it out on paper were two conflicting ideas, and it made me wince when he inquired about a price range. How do we know what we need? I have never done this before. Eli said he used to work with some of Bullfrog's friends in landscaping, so he has an idea on how to get things done, but we may need some help getting it accomplished. I took a deep breath, and he rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb and gave me an encouraging look that said, "We can do this," so I made a personal vow to persevere. This was my impulsive decision – to avenge Fiona and everything, and I was going to go through with it.

"Clare, we have time, and I'm sure that we can talk to someone to help us," Eli suggested, "Maybe somebody knew the Coyne family and can help us out price wise. They can donate the supplies." I bit my lip absentmindedly in thought.

"Eli, I can't ask a major corporation to donate an unknown amount of supplies to build a garden for our dead friend. It could take _thousands_ of dollars!" I exclaimed, "I want to get this done as soon as possible, so that we can remember Fiona for as long as she deserves to be, which is forever, because she shouldn't be forgotten. I won't let her be forgotten!" Tears started to come to my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away. Eli placed a hand on my face and rubbed his thumb on my cheek. He leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead, and stretched his arm out around my shoulders.

"The most expensive things are the things done right," he answered calmly, "If we want this to be good, we have to settle for nothing less than the best; settle for nothing below what we think Fiona deserves. We need quality, and if that means it cost thousands more than what it would if we got the cheapest supplies, so be it. We can raise the money. It doesn't have to be done_ right now_. We can plan and collect funds for a year before we start building. What is your rush? It isn't like Fiona is going to come back in two weeks and we need to get this done. Clare, please remember that she isn't coming back." I gasped at that. I felt anger rise inside me, but I pushed it down, and it was only replaced with more tears. Eli was right; Fiona was gone, and the best I could do to remember her was build her a garden, because I knew she would want something like that.

If I could do any better, I would bring her back.

But no, I'm sitting in Lowe's, surrounded by the smell of wood and industrial cleaner, and the coldness of the hard concrete floors, wrapped in the arms of my boyfriend and crying over the suicide of one of my best friends.

_Fi, if you can see me right now, please know that I miss you. _I whispered a secret prayer under my breath so Eli couldn't hear me. I cuddled deeper into his shoulder and my tears subsided. Eli was right. We had time; we didn't need time; we had time, and I was going to make the best of every single second.

We spent the rest of the day in Lowe's. We found a guy named Marcus, a middle aged man who was tall and muscular with a friendly smile and radio show host type voice, and he had known the Coyne family. He also happened to be the general manager of the store. It was really nice of him to walk around with us, helping us find the best things at the best price.

"And don't you worry," Marcus said, "You kids pick out everything you need or want, and place it in this shopping cart; whether it is only one, or two, or six. I will place it in the warehouse for safe keeping. Pick your plants too – we have a private nursery that can grow them special for you. I knew Fiona well. She used to come in here and talk to me about flowers for hours. Nice girl. It is a shame that she did what she did."

We told Marcus of our plan, and he picked out 12 frames that we could place on different elevations of ground to give the step-garden look that we wanted; three on all four sides. We didn't even bother putting them in the shopping cart because they were so long that it would be a hassle to drag around with us. Marcus just talked into his walkie-talkie and these two guys came out of nowhere like Oompa Loompas in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, and they swiftly picked up what we needed and disappeared again.

We shopped for pond accessories, including generics like the actual pond liner, which kind of looked like a giant bathtub, the seaming tape, a cool nozzle set to change the flow of the water, the motor to keep the water moving, a light that attaches to the nozzle and changes color according to hours of the day, a heron statue that spits water, this magic ball looking thing that floats in the pond and acts as a cleaner - absorbing all the algae particles. It just needs to be changed about once a month to keep it clean. I specifically found a square floating garden bin that I want to put some orchids in.

I picked out a cedar bench and two trellises. One was tall and made of squares like a checkerboard. The other was smaller and had the same checkerboard design but it had a plant box in front of it. I wanted to put roses in the box and grow the roses out onto the trellis. In the end, it would be like this giant rose bush that is intertwined in a giant trellis. Marcus also pointed out that we needed tools, so he grabbed 5 plant pruning shears, 3 shovels, and 3 rakes.

The plants were one thing we didn't entirely agree on: "I think we should have a color scheme!" I said, but Eli shook his head, "Fi was irrational and crazy. I don't think it should be themed at all." I really didn't want to argue with him over something so petty, so I looked at Marcus and he acted as mediator. He led us over to all the flowers and told us to go through and write down all the ones we liked, and then go back and eliminate the ones we don't like as much as others.

In the end, we agreed on a cherry blossom tree (Eli's suggestion), and a large assortment of flowers, including the Eureka Canna Lily, Luna Blush Hibiscus, Asiatic Lilies, every color of peony imaginable, Sioux Water Lilies for the pond, Society Garlic (an odd name for a flower - it just looks like long grass with a small purple flower on top) to surround the pond, 3 white orchids to go in the floating box in the pond, assorted colors of daisies including red, orange, yellow, and purple. One mixed cacti plant, and a whole bunch of mixed daffodils.

Eli also said to get this liquid concentrate of plant food that you mix with water, and it would help the plants grow and stay healthy. He said to trust his instincts, so I just let him get it. He also said to buy spearmint, which at first I wasn't sure if he was inquiring on my breath, but then he caught himself and stated that they help repel insects. I joked that we could just plant a piece of 5 Gum. He wasn't amused at first, but his poker face gave way and he chuckled before saying that he had some extra seeds in the garage at home and CeCe wouldn't mind if they took them.

Marcus sat down with us and we calculated the numbers. Roughly, the total came to about $4230.55. My eyes widened and Eli whistled as if an atomic bomb was falling from the sky. This is what I was afraid of. This atomic price was going to explode on all my hopes.

"I see how dedicated you are to this," Marcus said, "Which is why I'm going to cut you a deal." I perked up my ears and waited.

"I'm giving you 30% off the whole ticket. Which brings you to just under three thousand dollars. My heart expanded and I almost tackled Marcus, but settled for a wide smile, a rough shake of the hand, and saying "Thank you," a million times. Eli held his hand on the small of my back, as if he could feel me shaking. I liked when he did things like this, because he knew that I was close to my emotional end. Marcus assured that everything we picked out would be safely kept away, and as soon as we were done, he was going to place in the order personally with the nursery for our plants. I thanked him once more, and told him that we would be in touch. Eli shook his hand like any man would and I looked at him and realized what a prize of a boyfriend I had.

Eli and I walked out of Lowe's hand in hand, swinging our arms back and forth as we stepped. It was cold out, and I clutched my jacket closer to myself. Noticing this, Eli removed his hand from mine and instead wrapped his arm around my shoulders; curling me into his side.

He opened my door for me as he usually does, and when he got into the car, he pulled me into his arms and happily kissed me. He held my chin with one hand, and rested the other on my thigh. His lips were warm and every time he moved them, I felt an electric current pass through me, leaving a warm shiver in my body and desire in my heart. I kissed him back with fervor, curling my fingers into his hair. He slipped his tongue over my bottom lip, and I granted him access enthusiastically. He grazed his tongue all around my mouth, but pulled away all too soon. Leaning his forehead against mine, his eyes were shining in the low lights of early evening. This is when his eyes were the brightness. The only other time they were this bright were when it was completely dark outside that night we scoped out Imogen and Jake. It was like a creature was looking at me from the darkness of night; the color of their eyes luminous next to the surrounding darkness. That is what looking in Eli's eyes at night was like. It was like I was hunted; I was desired; and I loved it.

My face downcast – I was struck with a feeling of sadness. I missed Fiona.

"What is wrong, babe?" Eli sensed my change of emotion.

"I miss her," I whispered.

"I miss her too, Clare. It has only been a few weeks. Imagine how you will feel after years. But it does get better. You learn to remember the good things versus the bad," he said, rubbing my back with his hands, sending shivers through my body again.

"Do you think we will make her proud?" I asked quietly, like a child would.

"I think she will be ecstatic. Now let's build her a motherfucking garden." I laughed, and Eli drove off from the Lowe's parking lot into the chilly night of Toronto.

**End of Chapter **


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